


doe eyes and lies

by jonphaedrus, thetealord



Series: doe eyes and lies [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Becoming Healthy Relationships, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Birthday Sex, Blood, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Dominant Masochism, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Emetophobia, Enemies to Lovers to Friends, Gaslighting, Graphic Description, Graphic Suicide, Hand Jobs, Headaches & Migraines, Immortality, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Motorcycle Sex, Multiple Orgasms, No Lube, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Public Blow Jobs, Roleplay Logs, Rough Sex, Service Submission, Service Top, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Subspace, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, Triggers, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex, mind the tags on ch 18 lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 232,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetealord/pseuds/thetealord
Summary: insomnia falls, the starscourge comes, and cor leonis falls in love.





	1. i'm coming for you and i'm making war

**Author's Note:**

> this, according to what we know of lore and canon, is _technically_ canon compliant. technically. that said, the lore for this game has more holes than ardyns shitty crocheted scarf and we've had to patch it pretty badly here and there. this is written to be read as canon-compliant along with the game, with lots of. addition and grabs here and there.
> 
> this isn't quite done yet, and we'll be updating chapters weekly until it's done. currently it's sitting at almost 150k (as of 27 jan).
> 
> so uh anyway, man, i really ship ardor, and i should have done homework over winter break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [fall out boy's "irresistible"](https://youtu.be/i8BGAYXNW74?list=PLgwk3JREr5Iy_XM831JHntFktFOWAbWgB)

Maybe he had a death wish.

_“Maybe.”_

He definitely had some kind of a wish, anyway.

The Marshal of the Crownsguard had somehow, despite everything, survived. He had survived the fall of the Citadel and of Insomnia and survived out in the wilderness while Noctis was off doing things with his really _lovely_ car. Ardyn was, quite frankly, still not entirely sure how. Bad luck, perhaps. Today, he was stopped at a gas station, gassing up his motorcycle, and Ardyn had “needed to” “put gas” “in his car” and had sidled into the station behind the other man, and now was parked just behind Cor, leaning on the hood of his car and staring at the man.

He really did have _lovely_ shoulders. _How_ had King Regis not seen the _potential_ right before him? Why, a little bit of pressure here and there and Cor would shatter into a million pieces with just the right word. He was actually curious to see what it would take. So, he just lay there on his car, chin on his hands, and stared at the Marshal, batting his eyelashes.

\--

Cor leaned against his motorcycle as the tank slowly filled. He’d never been very good with Chocobos, and you couldn’t take cars over the sort of rough terrain he crossed so frequently while out on his hunts. Since the fall of Insomnia that motorcycle had become his only and most reliable companion, aside from the sword he wore at his hip in combat. But he was used to the quiet, used to being alone, and it didn’t bother him.

He was used to the occasional stares in public as well. People knew who he was, somewhat, or at least that he was a hunter of some note. He could feel someone watching him now without even looking at them. Not a threat, just another person he’d rather not deal with unless he had to. But when, at last, he did turn to look, if only to give them the sort of pointed stare that would get them to piss off, he did a double-take, summoned his sword without even thinking, and didn’t touch the gas pump when it clicked to signal the tank was full.

The man leaning against the car behind his, purple hair and clothing he recognized well enough, currently staring at him with wide doe eyes, was definitely Chancellor Izunia.

 “What do you want,” he growled, a split second away from starting a fight then and there. But he considered the army the man might have at his back, and the safety of the people in the area. The Chancellor appeared to be alone, but he didn’t trust that for an instant. There wasn’t any way a man like him would provide Cor an opportunity to strike him down unless he had something else up his sleeve. 

\--

“Oh,” Ardyn sighed, when Cor spun on him and his katana to hand, the weapon flickering to life as it warped back in. Everyone did that so often; Ardyn kind of missed it. “You don’t look happy to see me.” he continued, completely unfazed by the sword at hand. Ardyn sighed and stretched out further across the hood of his car, letting the sun-hot metal warm him through his clothes. “You know, I thought you might want some reassurance about the health and welfare of your wayward _charge_ given how you did promise our poor dearly departed king to keep an eye on Prince Noctis, but I suppose you wouldn’t want to hear it from me, if you’re going to act like _that_.”

“But,” Ardyn slid back to his feet and dusted off his chest, tipping the brim of his hat, “I can see where I’m not wanted, I’ll just be along my merry way and get out of your hair.”

\--

Cor eased slightly into a ready fighting stance, just in case, watching the man carefully, keeping himself alert in case he was only a distraction. At first he said nothing, just watched him. It wasn’t worth questioning words that were likely meant to throw him off. He wasn’t quite sure what his game was, acting like a happily sunning lizard on the hood of the car.

When he mentioned Noctis, though, Cor tensed, gritted his teeth, and grabbed the hilt of his sword, prepared to draw. “What about Prince Noctis?” he growled. “If you hurt him…” A spike of fear sliced through him, that something had happened to their new King, something this man knew about. As the Chancellor turned to go, Cor loosened and surged forward, drawing his sword, grabbing the man by the scarves bundled at his throat, turning and forcing him back against the side of the car, pinning him there. His fingers itched to run him through then and there but no, not yet, not if he could get more out of him first. He was just waiting for the entire imperial army to appear to save their Chancellor, but he heard no sound of engines overhead.

“Tell me,” he ground out, “ _What you did to Noctis_.”

\--

Cor’s hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and Ardyn cocked an eyebrow, curious to see if he would draw. “You would attack an unarmed man?” He said, sighing. “I thought the Marshal of the Crownsguard would be more _sporting_ than that.”

Well, he wasn’t unarmed. He wasn’t even slightly unarmed. Saying he was unarmed was absolutely lying but Cor didn’t know that.

“Your loss,” Ardyn sighed, and then almost barked a laugh aloud as he heard Cor lunge behind him, a hand wrapping around his scarves and dragging him backwards and choking him as Cor slammed him against the door of his car.

They were almost the exact same height, and up close, Ardyn could see just how damn blue the other man’s eyes were. That had to be illegal. Cor was still holding him by his scarves, pulled tight against his throat, and Ardyn had a moment to remember he had to be panicked before he started pulling at the man’s wrist. There was nowhere to go pinned where he was. “Oh,” he managed to croak after a moment, the effort surprisingly difficult, “You do me a _disservice_ , Marshal. You’re quite one to jump to conclusions!” He grinned, mostly teeth. “Why, are you worried about Noctis? Last I heard, you had trusted him to be able to handle it on his own and now here you are, shooting the messenger!”

He really was very sturdy. Very sturdy with very blue eyes. Gods, but the man was basically just a rock of muscle; where did Lucis find them like this?

\--

Cor seriously doubted he was unarmed, but even if he was, he’d make an exception for him. He was honorable, yes, but in the face of one of the men who was responsible for Insomnia’s downfall, for the death of his King… of Regis… and so many others. He couldn’t forgive that. He couldn’t let him walk away. That would be too much of a disservice to the dead.

He held him there, staring at him, at his eyes, at his face. He was unkempt, grinning like a madman, and there was something in that smile that made Cor’s gut twist. And his eyes were bright and sharp and intelligent. It was almost difficult to hold his gaze.

The Chancellor seemed… surprised, maybe, but not afraid. Not in the least. And the man’s words made the hair on the back of his neck rise, made him twist the cloth tighter to choke him harder as he snarled. “Anyone else in my place would have run you through already, Chancellor.” He paused, considered. He had him here, where he wanted him. The other man was barely even trying to fight back. Almost as if he wanted this. It was… strange, but he didn’t want to discard the opportunity because of that. “Tell me something useful, before I finish you.” 

\--

Cor pulled tighter on his scarves, until Ardyn found himself on his tiptoes, one hand curled in the Marshal’s collar. He was having a hard enough time breathing that there were spots in his vision, and he kept gasping open-mouthed to get in air. “I doubt that,” he managed after a moment, hoarse. “Most men are rather loathe to start another diplomatic incident.” As if Ardyn hadn’t basically done away with all possibility of a diplomatic incident happening again. He’d already put the pieces into motion to get rid of the thorn in his side that was the Imperial High Command.

Cor was glaring at him. It was hard to tell what the meaning of the glare was. The man seemed to glare an awful lot; it would only age him early. “Well,” Ardyn coughed, clawing at his scarves with his free hand, trying to pull them away from his throat (not really). “Far be it for _me_ to say it,” he wheezed for a moment, and then smiled, whispering a strained— “I would really hate to see you lose two Kings in as many months, Marshal.”

\--

Cor snorted at him. As if the empire hadn’t already started a diplomatic incident when they killed his King and invaded his city. When they killed hundreds of Insomnia’s citizens. When they stole the crystal.

The Chancellor’s words were no more than feeble attempts to escape, like the slight clawing of his hands at his throat. He grabbed for Cor’s collar to steady himself, on his toes as Cor choked him. And so be it if the imperial army hunted him down for killing this man. It would be worth it, to deal them such a blow. And he’d survived far worse.

He growled at the mention of Noctis, of Regis. “Enough,” he ground out, lifted his sword, and drove it through the man’s stomach, into the side of the car behind him, and moved his hand to his throat, closing his fingers around his neck. He was panting himself as he choked him and watched, chest heaving with the weight of the choice he’d made. A decision put forth in unusual circumstances, but one he knew he would not regret. He twisted his blade, driving it in deeper.  “After what you’ve done, a slow death is all you deserve.”

\-- 

Apparently that had been a step too far. “Did I say something wrong?” Ardyn gasped, as Cor drew his sword and stabbed him through the stomach, pinning him to the side of his car. Well, now he was going to _have_ to do something about that; he couldn’t just drive a car that had a hole in the metal of the door. Seemed a little bit of an overreaction. Ardyn hadn’t even technically _done_ anything (yet).

And he was going to bleed all over his lovely clothes. Damn. 

Cor was still choking him, and Ardyn’s vision was all white spots as the man dug his blade in, twisting the literal knife. It was a good thing he wore all black, Ardyn managed to think a little hysterically, or they would have had a right mess to clean up.

“I’ve been impaled,” he said, stupidly, struggling against the blade through his stomach. It didn’t _seem_ to be somewhere vital, at least. He would probably bleed to death in a while. At Cor’s words about a slow death, though, Ardyn burst into wheezy, choked laughter, as he grabbed at the other man’s wrist. He was nearer than he would have liked to blacking out. And, the more Cor crowded him back, all rock-hard muscle and steel and fury, the harder his dick got. This was embarrassing—Cor was going to choke him, probably to death, and he was probably going to come in his pants from it. At least he’d been asking for it.

“You,” Ardyn mouthed at last, struggling with every word as he blinked away the bright spots at the edges of his vision and moaned with the lancing pain of his bodyweight hanging off of Cor’s blade as he started to lose control of his legs from lack of oxygen, not able to breathe well enough to speak aloud, “Have _no_ idea.”

\--

Cor watched the man’s face, watched his eyes begin to glaze over, as he gasped for breath and started to bleed out. Still, the reaction wasn’t at all to the extent that most men would have had. No screaming, no lunging, he barely even twitched, just stayed there, struggling for breath, reeling in the pain.

He stated the fact that he’d been impaled so simply, it nearly knocked the breath out of Cor, too. Then the Chancellor laughed, low and heated and dark, and Cor felt something twist deep in the pit of his stomach as the other man grabbed at his wrist. They were close, so close he felt hot, and his chest was heaving, too, as he tightened his grip on the other man’s neck, palm pressing on his throat, so hard it would leave bruises there, choke the life out of him as he bled.

The Chancellor moaned from the pain, mouthing words to him, and Cor tensed all over, letting out shaking breaths. He forgot where they were, forgot the car and the motorcycle and the gas station, his gaze fixed on the man he’d stabbed, who despite being in the process of dying, didn’t seem to care. Was even… enjoying it. And between the sudden stab of confusion mixed with adrenaline and anger, he realized he was very, very hard, and he was trembling ever so slightly from the tension and the arousal. He didn’t even know how to react but to grind his teeth and twist the sword in deeper, to thumb the side of his neck and press in harder.

\--

Cor was staring at him with those bright blue eyes, the same colour as the sky, and Ardyn hadn’t seen eyes like that in—so long. He’d forgotten what it was like to look at eyes like that. Like they could cut straight through you.

Every time Cor shifted against him, leaning more weight on his throat, choking Ardyn hard enough that he knew he’d probably do long-term damage to someone that wasn’t, well, him, Ardyn could feel the other man’s cock. He was painfully hard, erection digging into Ardyn’s hip from where he was on his toes. He didn’t seem to be too happy about it, and Ardyn dug his nails into the man’s wrist, trying to twist away—but it was hopeless. Any leverage he could have had was negated by the sword through his stomach, that kept him pinned down like a bug to a corkboard. Cor’s thumb was digging into the side of his trachea and it hurt something fierce, but Ardyn still managed to smile as he shuddered, rocking his hips forward into the other man’s to get enough friction to come, shuddering just on the edge of consciousness.

“You sure seem like you’re having fun,” he choked out as his vision just went to darkness and his head to fuzz, and he passed out, tremendously pleased with himself.

\--

Cor panted for breath as he held the other man’s gaze. The Chancellor was watching him back, and even though he was dying, there was a fierceness in his eyes that made Cor even harder. Nails dug into his wrist, but the man’s grip was weak. Cor didn’t even bother trying to shake him off.

Then the other man shifted his hips and Cor hissed between his teeth. He could feel his cock too, hard, and as their hips ground together, he could barely manage to swallow down the deep groan rising up in his throat. It had been so long, and he barely knew this man, didn’t even like him, was in the process of killing him, and here they were, both hard, the Chancellor rutting against him as he died. It was disgusting, and only that internal insistence kept him from grinding back against him, kept him from coming, too, as he felt the other man trembling from it.

“What,” was all he managed, dazed and confused and suddenly feeling more like he was in a dream than reality. Then the Chancellor passed out.

Suddenly unsure of himself, Cor let go of his neck. His hands were trembling, and he stepped back, gasping. He pulled his sword back, wrenching it out of the car, and watched the Chancellor’s body slump downward. It took him far too long to manage to sheathe his weapon and send it away.

Then he stared at him, bleeding out for a long moment, horrified, horrified with himself, trying to calm down and think, to get his erection to go away. No one should find him there with the body, like that. And finally, he forced himself to turn, to hang up the gas pump, to get on his motorcycle and drive. And he drove and tried his hardest to calm down and forget. If the Chancellor wasn’t dead yet, he would die, and none of that would ever matter.

\--

Ardyn Izunia woke up cold, tossed in a ditch, covered in blood, with come dried tacky in his pants, at sometime around two in the morning. “Really?” he said, to nobody at all, as he rolled to his feet and rubbed his neck—no bruises, so he had finally died. It was too dark by the light of the moon to be able to clearly see how bad shape his clothes were in, so he conjured Fire to hand, the flames licking his fingertips as he inspected his jacket. 

Black blood. Everywhere. “Honestly,” he grumbled, raising his hand, letting the fire grow in power so he could see further, and found his car in a ditch another thirty feet off the road. “What kind of a gas station owner doesn’t at _least_ call the local Hunters to look into a dead body?” Apparently, this one, and he trudged over to his car, and considered pushing it back to the road before he decided he would rather not and just climbed in, fishing in his pockets to get his keys.

Cor had left a hole in his door, and his blood was everywhere. He needed a carwash, to burn everything he was wearing, and a change of pants. And a new car, apparently. Or at least some repairs. He would have to go to the nearest Imperial base. He could have just teleported there but—car. “What a pain,” Ardyn sighed to nobody at all. 

 

As it turned out, tagging along with Noctis to go wake Titan was far more fun than Ardyn wanted to admit. It made him feel young again, and it was even more fun when he stole the Regalia. (He would give it back...probably.) Still, after he had dropped the boys off at Wiz’s, he had sent the car to wait somewhere in safe keeping before he had known exactly where he was going.

Cor Leonis wasn’t exactly a subtle man, and it wasn’t too hard to find him at a Crow’s Nest, eating. His motorcycle was parked outside, and Ardyn considered going in and interrupting his meal, but then thought better of it; surprises could be very bad for digestion.

So, instead, he found a comfortable spot on the man’s motorcycle seat, leaned back against the steering wheel, and tapped his hat over his eyes with his hands folded on his chest. It was a lovely, warm, sunny afternoon out in Cleigne while it poured over Duscae, and he was going to enjoy the very best of the sun while he napped.

\--

Cor didn’t tell anyone about what happened. Not that he had anyone to tell. He tried to forget about it himself, too, though it wasn’t exactly easy. He could still see the man’s face sometimes, when he closed his eyes, and he was waking up with erections far more frequently, after having dark, detailed dreams about him. Not even jerking himself off late at night while trying to think resolutely of anything _but_ that seemed to help. It haunted him, in a much different way than anything ever had.

But he kept hunting, kept working, kept on his toes, and hoped that the more time passed, the more the thoughts would fade.

When he came out of Crow’s Nest after a meal a few weeks later, heading for his bike, he froze. What at first, out the corner of his eye, seemed nothing but a hallucination, maybe from eating too much, did not fade when he focused his gaze on it. The same clothes, the same hat, the same hair… the Chancellor was on his bike, sunning himself, like it was completely ordinary.

Cor suddenly felt a little faint. He couldn’t move. He blinked over and over, trying to see if he really was imagining things. Pinched himself, to see if he might wake up.

The Chancellor was dead. He’d left his unconscious, bleeding body on the ground. No one could have saved him at that point. Even if they had, the recovery would have taken months and the man before him now seemed… completely fine. Was he losing his mind? He lifted one hand to his forehead, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose, but when he looked back again, the man was still there.

“Who are you?” he got out eventually. “Is this… some idea of a joke? Because it isn’t funny.”

\--

Ardyn was grinning under his hat when he heard Cor come out of the diner. “You walk so distinctively!” He called, like Cor hadn’t recently killed him. “Like a _General_.” All military heel-toe precision. Did he stand at parade rest even when he was relaxing? Probably. When Cor stopped dead, Ardyn reached up and knocked his hat back before he waved his fingers at the other man.

He looked rather pale.

“You’re looking a little faint, Marshal,” Ardyn continued, stretching along the bike and sighing as the sun sunk into different angles of his clothes, his skin warm from his black coat and dark slacks. “Almost like you’ve seen a ghost. Has anyone ever told you that your motorcycle is really not nearly comfortable enough to take a proper nap on? Every time you almost fall asleep, you’re sliding over the side. I can tell you with the _utmost_ sincerity that really, the Regalia is far more comfortable to nap in. There’s so much leg room, and that black paint really heats up nicely in the sun.”

\--

Cor wished his heart didn’t race so much when the man told him he walked like a General. He wished he didn’t feel even more faint when the man told him he looked it. It was him, though. His voice was unmistakable, and the way he avoided the question Cor posed was just like the time before. But… how?

The other man just kept stretching out like an unwelcome cat, and Cor just kept standing right where he was.

“I…” He shook his head, rubbed the bridge of his nose again, and moved towards him, tense and unsure. He felt like he was seeing a ghost, though the way the Chancellor avoided every topic of importance still ground his gears.

He had half a mind to ask how the other man knew what it was like to sleep in the Regalia, but decided it best to not take that bait this time. “How did you survive?” he said instead, as clearly and calmly as he could manage when he was starting to feel dizzy and too warm for comfort, with all the dreams he’d had over the last few weeks suddenly coming to mind.

\--

Cor was still staring at him and he looked a little bit like Ardyn had just grabbed the carpet out from under him and ripped it away, toppling him flat on his back. Ardyn grinned right back. “Oh, that seems almost romantic from you! And here I thought you were mad at me because you hadn’t tried to choke me yet.” He laughed, doffed his hat, and mocked a bow without straightening from where he was currently melting comfortably over the motorcycle chassis. “I’m surprised you care so much about me, Marshal. Here I was, thinking you’d want some answers about me giving your lovely little King a helping hand. Noctis is _very_ nervous about driving, did you know that? He should wear a seatbelt more, or something untoward might happen to him.” Or his car.

\--

“Romantic?” he repeated, wrinkling his nose in disdain even though he was flushing a little, too. What _was_ this man? Did he want to be choked to death? Then again… he’d enjoyed it. Too much. And Cor had, too. Though he’d tried so hard not to think on it, it was impossible with the man before him again, now. He couldn’t even bring himself to respond to the questions, he barely had time to react anymore, he had so many of his own whirling around in his head. One moment he was practically complaining about not being choked yet, the next he was talking about Noctis and the Regalia and his safety. The last time, he’d thought it was a threat. Now, he wasn’t sure. So many of his words seemed just that. Words. Meant to catch him off guard, though maybe there was some truth to them.

But he shouldn’t worry about Noctis. He was worried, yes. He always would be. But he had to trust him to take care of himself, had to trust that his friends would look out for him. It wasn’t Cor’s place, anymore, except to guide him when he could.

He closed the distance between them, slowly and carefully this time, until they were just as close as they’d been when he had his sword buried in the other man’s gut. One hand on the handlebar of his motorcycle to steady himself, he reached for the man’s throat with the other, less mad and reactive than the last time, more intentional. He didn’t squeeze yet, just held him still. “What are you?” he ground out. “And what do you want from me?” He’d always been quick to catch on, and he was almost certain now, that this was not about Noctis at all. This was about Cor and the interest the Chancellor, whoever or whatever he was, had taken in him. “Tell me.”

\--

Cor approached him like he was a bomb about to explode, and Ardyn sighed. “Oh, had you forgotten, Marshal?” He raised his hands theatrically, mimed tipping his sleeves forward. “ _Unarmed_. I couldn’t hurt a fly.” Cor still walked up to him warily, though, and after a moment, leaned on the bike handlebars and wrapped his free hand around Ardyn’s throat.

Gently. Like he was about to use the hold to haul him off of his perch. “Oh, I just want to help,” Ardyn replied, completely blasé, ignoring how his dick had reacted to Cor grabbing him by the throat. “After all, keeping track of children can be very difficult, and I would hate to have you lose track of dear Prince Noctis. Oh, sorry.” Ardyn laughed, smiling at the other man. “ _King_. I keep forgetting, my sincerest apologies. I’d hate to see you so devastated by losing another of the Blood Royal; then you’d really be in _quite_ the pickle. I can only do my very best to look after him, but he won’t listen to me, of course.”

\--

Cor didn’t particularly care that he was supposedly unarmed. He never had in the first place. “Help,” he repeated the word, scowling. “Of course you do.” He hated the way his breath picked up, the way his cock twitched now that he had him pinned against his motorcycle, hand around his throat. Every word the man said, he tightened his grip just a little bit more.

He couldn’t tell if the words were truth or lies, but still he found himself growing angrier the more it went on. The more the Chancellor spoke, the more his heart pounded in his ears, the more he wanted to choke him to death all over again. “What have you been saying to him?” he ground out. “If you hurt him—” He paused. What would he do, kill him? He’d already survived that once. Though he wasn’t completely averse to trying again, and making sure he was dead this time.

\--

Cor’s hand around his throat was a warning. “Wouldn’t want to start a scene in front of all those poor people at the diner,” Ardyn mused, “If you’re going to ruin another one of my coats, I’m sure we can take this around back and you can do it properly. I’d hate to damage your lovely bike.” He had ulterior motives with that suggestion, but he would wait to see if Cor would take the bait.

“Oh, nothing cruel, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Almost idly, he flipped his hat up to sit on top of Cor’s head. “I just helped him along his way. The Archaen was very pleased to see him; too bad it got so out of hand…”

\--

Cor dug his fingers into the other man’s neck, just for a moment, clenching his jaw. He was right, though. Causing a scene in front of those windows in the wide open was not the best idea. Growling, annoyed, he jerked his hand away, but didn’t move yet. “Fine,” he snarled. “But don’t try anything. I’ve got both eyes on you.” 

He wasn’t sure if he believed him or not, that he hadn’t hurt Noctis at all. It was hard to think of what to say with the almost affectionate way the Chancellor flipped his hat up onto Cor’s head. He jerked it off a moment later, shoving it against the other man’s chest for him to hold.

“The Archaen?” he repeated, though the fact that Noctis met him wasn’t completely surprising. It was the hints he was making that something bad had happened. His breath was still coming hard, and he narrowed his eyes, finally giving him enough space to move. “Around back,” he said, “then you’ll tell me more.”

\--

Cor shoved Ardyn’s hat back onto his chest, and he let it stay there. Until Cor invited him around back, anyway, and then Ardyn rolled sideways off of the motorcycle as gracefully as one _could_ fall off of a motorcycle, and swept his hat back onto his head, bowed from the waist. “How generous of you, Marshal, to let me go first.” As soon as he was behind the diner, he turned toward the other man, intentionally putting his back to the back of the building.

“I really don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Ardyn continued, still completely calm. “After all, I was with them, and I’m a perfectly suitable escort. It is _very_ unfortunate, what happened to the Regalia, though.”

\--

Cor kept his eyes carefully on the other man as he moved off the motorcycle, bowed and swept his hat back onto his head. Cor grunted at him as he passed, then followed behind. Once they were in the back, alone and out of sight, the Chancellor put his back to the wall and Cor gladly moved in to pin him there, one hand braced on the concrete, staring him down.

“Were you now?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes again, and when he mentioned the Regalia, all too calm, Cor grabbed him by the throat again, shoving him up against the wall. His breath was coming more heavily again, but even as he growled, “What did you do to the Regalia?” he was watching those eyes again, and that smile, and he was thinking about the way they ground their hips together as he choked him to death, and the heat between them then, and how much a small, awful part of him wanted more of whatever that was.

 \--

Cor took it as an offer, and boxed Ardyn in. It didn’t work as well as it might have if he was a bit shorter, as they were nearly the same height, but it was still meant to be intimidating. Cor Leonis was a _very_ impressive man. All the more impressive when he got one of those giant, calloused palms wrapped around your throat and all his weight leaned into you. Ardyn was in good shape, all things considered, but he wasn’t anything near the toned, honed muscle of the man before him.

Well. He had other things to make up for it, but nothing he felt like showing off at the present. “Oh,” Ardyn murmured, cocking an eyebrow at the other man as the wall behind him knocked his hat down over his eyes, “Nothing as of yet. I’m just borrowing it, you see,” this close he could feel Cor’s cock again, hard in the front of his fatigues, and he was still thinking about _last_ time. “As my car has needed to go in for some much needed repairs. It seems someone sliced a hole in the driver’s side door. Blood everywhere, you know. Very messy.”

\--

Cor let out a quiet, agitated, thoughtful sound. He stole the Regalia because Cor damaged his car? That was some joke. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought the man was nothing more than a harmless prankster. Unfortunately, he knew that it ran much deeper than that. He just didn’t know how deep, or what he really wanted. And the Chancellor didn’t exactly do anything to make that more clear.

Despite all of that, Cor found him infuriating and yet, there was something about him that was fascinating, and terrifying too. The Chancellor baffled him. He’d somehow defied death, and he had such brilliant eyes, and a smile that sent shivers down his spine. He was… something, though Cor doubted he would ever say what, and he was hard again from the proximity and the situation and the Chancellor’s poisonous charisma. Even if he knew he was wandering into the snake’s den, he didn’t want to back away.

“You deserved it,” he said, tightening his grip on his throat with one hand, and reaching to take the other man’s hat with the other. It had tipped down over his eyes, and he pulled it away, holding onto it as he steadied himself on the wall again, moving in closer. He wanted to be able to watch his face. “And you liked it. But you liked me choking you most of all. Is that why you came to find me again?” 

\--

“Oh,” Ardyn murmured, “I certainly never denied that.” Cor didn’t even know the half of it, of course. Ardyn had been stabbed a lot of times through the years, but rarely did anyone make it even near as memorable as the other man had. Ardyn had never before gotten an orgasm out of it, for one thing.

The other man took his hat, leaning closer, and Ardyn arched both his eyebrows, chin tilted up slightly to straighten his throat so he could breathe. Easier said than done, given the fact that Cor currently was leaning most of his weight into Ardyn.

“Oh, I had no such ulterior motives, Marshal. I just wanted to let you know that your wayward Kinglet was safe and sound, no thanks to anyone but me. I thought you might want to give me some kind of reward for my...services rendered. After all, those boys didn’t bother to offer anything for an escorted drive straight to the waiting Archaen.” He’d stolen their car, of course, but he was planning on giving it back after he jerked them around a little bit first. He at least wanted to make sure they were baffled as to why he’d taken it. He just wanted to bother them. “But _you_ , Marshal...Cor,” he tasted the other man’s name on his lips, drawing it out. So short, so simple a name. “You know how to pay properly for services rendered, don’t you?”

\--

The other man’s eyebrows arched, chin tilted up to try to get more room to breathe, but Cor didn’t let up. He stayed perfectly still, pressing on his throat, holding his gaze, and leaning his weight into him to keep him pinned.

At least he was getting straight answers now, and he grunted quietly when the man denied his claim. “I see,” he muttered. Then Noctis was safe, if he was to be believed. And supposedly the Chancellor had helped him. Of course, he took the Regalia, but those boys would find a way to get it back, he was sure. They were smart, strong kids. 

When the man said his name, Cor let out a quiet, shaky breath. He did want something. Of course he wanted something. Not that Cor didn’t, as much as he wanted to deny it. Still, he was wary, and he shifted his grip on his neck, loosening it a little, pressing his thumb up against the joint of his jaw. His skin was rough with unshaven stubble that looked like it matched the color of his hair, though it was hard to see exactly in the building’s shadow. He was suddenly very conscious of how much his dick ached, and how hard he was trying to control his breathing. “I don’t have much money,” he said. “But if it’s something else you want…” He swallowed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

\--

Cor’s single, shaking breath made Ardyn smile even more, and he reached up to grab the other man’s collar, pull him closer, watching those damn blue eyes. Gods, but were they a whole other colour of the sky. The other man pressed his thumb up against Ardyn’s jaw, making him part his lips slightly.

Cor’s dick really was _very_ hard. And insistently jabbing at Ardyn’s hip through all his clothes. Not that his was much better at the moment, and it throbbed every time he felt his breathing restrict. “Oh, I don’t need money.” The last thing he needed was money. What would he do with it; he was Imperial Chancellor and soon enough would have nobody to get in his way in the top brass. What would he have bought with it?

Scarves. He could buy scarves.

“Whatever could it be that you have to offer?” Ardyn murmured, not able to take his eyes away from the other man’s. He felt burned by his eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, if the King had been taking advantage of his loyal servant, and if he hadn’t been, _why in hells not_. “I certainly hope it’s not impaling me again; you could damage your sword on the concrete.”

\--

The man’s smile made his heart thud in his chest, and the Chancellor grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. The other man was watching him just as intently, and Cor could feel his erection, too, pressing up against him, and that just made him harder. He couldn’t think logically at all with his cock that hard, and he didn’t think he cared to anymore, anyway.

“Hmm.” He rubbed again at the joint of his jaw, looked from the man’s bright eyes to his parted lips. “No,” he said, “I wouldn’t want to damage the blade. There’s plenty I could do without it.” Shifting forward, he ground their hips blissfully together, letting out a shuddering breath. The feeling of his cock against another man’s was something he hadn’t known in far, far too long, their last encounter aside. “I could ruin you,” he ground out. “Ardyn.” He’d never used that name before, never thought of him by it, but if they were to be on first name basis, it was time to start. “Would that be sufficient payment?”

\--

Cor kept feeling his jawline, and Ardyn wanted to ask the man if he was trying to figure out if Ardyn’s hair was actually that red, he had another place Cor could look. But the Marshal was staring at his lips, very intently. “No,” Ardyn murmured, his voice hoarse. “I’m certain you wouldn’t want to. A weapon like that getting damaged would be a _crying_ shame.”

And then Cor ground their hips together, cocks all friction and heat, and Ardyn just. Let his mind go utterly blank, for just a moment. It was utter bliss. He shuddered, hard, when Cor whispered his name; none of that _Izunia_ nonsense. He could imagine that deep voice, raw with arousal, saying the latter half; he’d heard it before, after all, on Crownsguard dispatches. “Is that what the kids are calling it now?” Ardyn managed, feeling unusually tongue-tied. “Do you usually try to fuck people you impale, or am I just an...exceptional case?”

\--

It was good, too good. The heat, the friction, the way Ardyn shuddered against him in a way no one else ever really had. Not since he was in his twenties, maybe. Not since he’d dedicated himself to his work and his King and left everything else behind. But they were so close together, both achingly hard, and he had no reason to stop himself. He knew this was a terrible idea. That, of all men he could have wanted to fuck, this was one of the worst possible choices he could have made, but in the heat of the moment none of that mattered.

“I don’t usually try to fuck people, period,” he said. “You are the exception of exceptions.” He finally dropped the other man’s hat to the ground to grab his hip instead, pulling them closer together and rocking against him, closing his fingers tighter around his throat and letting himself lean in to bite at his lips. “It’s been so long, you have no idea.” 

\--

This was an absolutely terrible idea and so help him Ardyn was going to do it anyway and damn the consequences. “Oh,” Ardyn murmured, staring at Cor’s tight-lipped mouth less than an inch away from his own, “Goodie.” Cor dropped his hat, and Ardyn had a split-second to say, “Be careful with that, Marshal, I don’t want it dirty,” but then Cor dragged him closer by his hip until their knees were knocking, the hand around his throat tight and holding his head still as the other man leaned forward and bit at his lips.

Ardyn laughed, a little hysterically, into Cor’s mouth. “Funny you mention that,” he murmured, hauling the other man closer by his jacket collar, “I was just about to say the same thing.” And then, rather than keep talking himself into a hole in the ground, Ardyn dragged Cor the rest of the way over until their noses crashed and their mouths smashed together and he bit the other man’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood in lieu of a kiss, holding him down by his jacket.

\--

He couldn’t have cared less about the hat in that moment, no matter how much Ardyn loved it. Nothing mattered but how close they were, how good it felt to rock his hips slowly against the other man’s, to taste him. Ardyn pulled him closer by his jacket collar, and Cor had just a moment for the breath to catch in his throat before Ardyn slammed their mouths together, biting hard on his lip and holding him there.

He growled into the other man’s mouth, biting back at his upper lip just as hard, dragging his teeth against it and shoving their hips together. Letting go of his hip, he tangled his fingers tight into his purple hair instead, just for a moment, pulling on it as he squeezed his neck. “Is all of your hair this color?” he asked off-hand into his mouth, biting down on his lower lip, too, then moved over to his neck, to nudge aside the truly unnecessary layers of scarves. His stubble was definitely all maroon. He’d never seen anything like it before, and he braced himself on the wall again as he bit down on the side of his neck, sucking at his skin.

\--

Cor growled angrily into his mouth, and Ardyn egged him on by rolling his hips forward, enjoying the whiteout heat of friction and pressure on his cock. Cor bit back at his upper lip, until it was bleeding, and he had a moment to spare for the fact that he was probably going to kiss the blood back out of Cor’s mouth before he left and it eventually turned black, before Cor was pulling, hard, on his hair, fingers still tight around the base of Ardyn’s neck.

Since Cor wasn’t holding his hip any more, Ardyn took that opportunity to get fingers into the other man’s belt loop and dragged his dick back over. He wanted that dick as physically close to him as possible. “If you’re curious you can always check and find out,” he managed, only to break off into a sharp moan of “ _Fuck_.” as Cor bit just underneath the top of his collar, near the hinge of his jaw.

That would be visible. He was going to have to consider getting himself killed after this to make it go away.

“I thought you said you would ruin me,” Ardyn slid his knees far enough apart to get his erection onto the other man’s thigh, glad in that moment for the fact that they were almost the exact same height because the pressure was consistent, “Not that you were going to neck me behind a diner like a fifteen year old boy who’s never gotten his dick sucked before.”

\--

Ardyn kept rolling their hips together, fingers slipping into his belt loop, dragging him closer. He could feel Ardyn’s cock hard against thigh, and the yelp of protest the other man let out when Cor bit down on his neck made him grin. He almost laughed at the reaction he got and ground his thigh up against Ardyn’s dick, pressing his own insistently against his hip, rubbing it there so he could feel all of his long, hard, aching cock. “You’re so eager,” he muttered, gasping for breath at the friction. Not that he wasn’t, but it had been so long he was still just getting his bearings, still overwhelmed by having someone who even wanted him in the first place after so many years.

He pressed his palm, hard, at the base of his throat again, squeezing. “So tell me what you want, Ardyn. You want me to choke you to death again? Or shove my cock down your throat? Or something else? It’s your reward, after all.”

\--

Ardyn snarled back, “Fuck yes,” because it had been longer than a lifetime of man since he’d had anything for company. He’d had a few fits and starts through the years where he’d done anything and anything he wanted, but he’d been in a slump the last few centuries. He was getting old, he was getting bored. Nobody had piqued his attention quite the way the Lucian Royals and their retainers this present generation had.

He wondered, if Cor knew, what that would change. If that would change anything.

Cor’s dick was digging into his hip, and the more that the other man rut against him, grinding hot and damp into the groove between thigh and bone of his pelvis, all Ardyn could notice was how damn big his cock seemed to be. He laughed and dragged the other man back up to bite at his lip until it bled again, coppery in his mouth. “You’re taking this murder thing surprisingly well. Should have known a military man could get off on that.” The fact that Cor was _offering_ it—fuck.

He was absolutely going to regret this later, but at present, Noctis was soaking wet and crawling all around Duscae no doubt after the Fulgarian, and that was a battle Ardyn had lost before it had ever started, so he had comparatively all the time in the world to let Cor fuck him against a wall. “I mean,” Ardyn mused, bucking up against the other man and huffing a wet sound of arousal as he felt Cor’s dick dig into his belt and his balls _at the same time_ , “I would hate to _impose_ , but I suppose that either option has the bonus of making me shut up.”

\--

Ardyn laughed and Cor felt his cock jump where it was shoved up against the other man’s hip, leaking against the front of his pants. He bit at Cor’s lip and Cor nipped back, not quite as hard, growling quietly at the aching arousal in his bones. He almost smiled at the comment. “Yes,” he admitted, and shrugged, letting out a shaky sigh. He didn’t have much to say in that respect. He’d never known he’d get off on it, though he didn’t think he would with anyone else. There was just something about Ardyn. Not to mention the fact that death didn’t seem to be an issue for him.

“True,” he admitted, grinding his cock harder against Ardyn’s. He let go of his throat, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him down instead. “Then get on your knees.” There wasn’t anything saying he couldn’t try to do both, and the thought of choking him with his cock and his fingers at the same time made his cock throb.

\--

He almost moaned _perfect_ but that would have been a stretch even for his very loose definitions of self respect, and just took the shove on his shoulder as it was intended and dropped to his knees on the tarmac of the parking lot. It was dirty. It was definitely not the dirtiest place he’d ever sucked a man’s dick, so he wouldn’t complain.

Rather than wait for Cor to fumble about, Ardyn reached straight for the other man’s belt and got it off, since it was comfortably right at face level, and then grabbed for his fly, thumbed it down. Zipper flies were, as far as he could tell, probably the best thing that had ever been invented, and if humanity had done any single thing to make him not want to doom them, it was that.

“You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Ardyn murmured, as he slid his hand into the Marshal’s briefs (of course he wore tighty whities) and pulled his cock out. He paused, and took in a long, shaking breath. “Oh,” he managed after a moment, and then sat back on his heels, momentarily defeated. He needed a better plan, clearly, than _get pants off get dick in mouth_ because that wouldn’t work with this particular dick.

He might have been underestimating his prowess with a skill he was seriously rusty with. Ardyn was now realising that getting that dick into his throat whole hog without Cor just fucking his face was going to be a lot more difficult than he had planned.

\--

Ardyn dropped to his knees without complaint, and did him the favor of undoing his belt and fly for him. He was definitely very big, but Ardyn seemed to like the idea as he pulled his cock out. Cor hissed between his teeth, steadying himself against the wall with one hand, tangling the other tight into Ardyn’s messy hair. From the sound of it, he was even larger than the other man was expecting.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, coaxing him forward. He was hard and leaking and aching for friction to the point that he was getting agitated already. He might have offered to be gentle with anyone else, but that wasn’t what they were there for. “Having second thoughts?”

\--

Cor’s fingers were tangled in his hair, holding him down, tugging on the roots. It was going to be an absolute wreck later. He couldn’t bring himself to care. “I could ask you the same,” Ardyn snapped back, sliding his hand down to the base of the other man’s cock to brace against the cloth of his underwear before he leaned forward as he licked at the tip. “I thought you were here to fuck my face, not wait until I was _ready_.” It had been so damn long—he made a quiet, pleased noise in the back of his throat at the salt and musk of it, how hot Cor was on his tongue. Ardyn glanced up at the other man—the sweat beading bright on his hairline, the grimace on his thin lips—and winked. “Or are you all talk and no cock, Marshal? Need someone telling you what to do _all_ the time?”

\--

Cor let out a slow, shaky breath as Ardyn’s fingers brushed the length of his cock, as he leaned forward and pressed his tongue against the tip. It was barely even anything at all, but he closed his eyes, just for a moment, then looked down at him again. Their eyes met, and Ardyn’s were just as wide and expressive as ever. He could barely even remember the last time someone sucked his cock. On their knees, like this, maybe not since he was a teenager. Ardyn winked at him and Cor swallowed, curled his fingers against the concrete wall at his words.

“No,” he snapped, too quickly, a forced denial of the question, and clenched his jaw, grabbing him by the back of the neck and ignoring the way his cock twitched at the idea of Ardyn telling him what to do, taking control of him. He didn’t want to want that but… fuck.

Grabbing his cock in his other hand to guide it, he dragged the other man forward onto it, at least to get him to shut up as he tried to keep himself from reeling at all the things he’d never known he wanted.

\--

Ardyn could think of lots of things that he would love to make Cor do. Things he was already making him do. It wouldn’t take much more effort than he was currently giving to twist the man around his finger; Cor was almost _too easy_ to rile and rouse. He was almost certain given time that he could get the man to, instead of fucking his mouth on his knees in a parking lot, pin Ardyn facedown, tear his slacks down, and fuck him raw on his knees in a parking lot.

Tempting.

For later, though, because Cor was dragging on his hair and rocking Ardyn forward on his knees as he grabbed at the other man’s beltloops again for balance as Cor’s dick dug into his mouth. The head bumped into his soft palate, almost making him gag, but he wasn’t in control, and Cor wasn’t letting him stop as the cock in his mouth slid headfirst into his throat, cutting off any noise he might have made as he gagged, helplessly, around the intrusion. Ardyn grabbed at Cor’s thigh, moaning, and closed his eyes as the other man fucked his throat, his scalp tingling from where his hair was being pulled. He should have known the prospect of getting him to stop talking would be enough.

To egg Cor on before he thought too hard about fucking Ardyn’s throat, he moaned low in his chest, and sucked on what was in his mouth, dipped further down until his nose was scraping the hair at the base of Cor’s cock. He could hardly breathe, but he knew he could get down further.

\--

Cor gasped quietly as he dragged Ardyn forward and his cock slid into the other man’s mouth. It was all hot and tight and he bit back the groan he wanted to let out, making a quiet choking sound instead as he pushed in deeper. Ardyn grabbed his thigh, moaning, and Cor had to brace himself on the wall again, closing his eyes. He could feel the head of his cock filling the other man’s throat, could feel his tongue pressing against the underside, and when Ardyn sucked and moaned and voluntarily took him in deeper, Cor couldn’t help but moan, too.

“Fuck,” he ground out, steadying himself again and twisting his fingers tighter into Ardyn’s hair, grabbing his neck in a firm grip with the other, thumb pressed against his throat. Gasping, he shoved his hips forward and started fucking, hard, into his mouth, dragging Ardyn towards him still, grinding his thumb in at the top of his throat where he could almost feeling himself as he fucked into him, then curling his fingers tighter around his neck and squeezing.

\--

Cor pulled harder on his hair, and if the fact that he couldn’t breathe and could feel the other man’s dick rubbing his throat raw hadn’t made his eyes water, that would have. Cor fucked his throat much in the same way he’d stabbed him: no-nonsense, meant to hurt, and tearing him apart. The fingers clenched around his neck were just helping with that, and Ardyn moaned as he rocked forward, tilting his chin up to give the other man an easier time of feeling the way he was fucking Ardyn’s mouth.

He almost didn’t need Cor choking him; his cock was doing that plenty, because Ardyn could only gasp through his nose and hope he would get in air. He could feel his face turning red, the veins on his temples throbbing, and he clawed at Cor’s leg, which was just far enough out of his reach that he couldn’t even dry-hump the other man’s foot to get some relief for his aching, too-hard cock. Every time Cor slid home again the head of his cock bumped down into Ardyn’s throat and rammed into his fingers, and he felt faint from it.

Not just from the air loss, but because all he could think about was Cor pinning him to the ground with all that military muscle and using spit as his only lube before he ripped Ardyn’s ass apart. Just the thought of Cor grinding his face into the tarmac, making him bleed, before he fucked into him with that giant cock, tore his ass open, kept fucking him even after he came like Ardyn was just there for him—

He dragged his teeth along the base of Cor’s cock as he came, for the second time untouched like some stupid schoolboy, gagging on the other man’s dick.

\--

Cor groaned as he fucked the other man’s throat raw, fucked him harder when Ardyn tilted his chin up just enough that he could feel the head of his cock in the other man’s throat more easily, could feel it against his fingers, and he panted and groaned even more at that. Even better was how much Ardyn loved it, how much he was getting off on it, the way he clawed at his leg as his face turned red from lack of air.

“You love this,” he ground out, a statement of the obvious, but he could still hardly believe how much Ardyn wanted him to do this to him, and how much Cor was getting off on the look on his face, the fact that he was leaking down his throat as he choked him with his cock.

He could feel the other man tensing as he came, completely untouched, teeth scraping at the base of his cock, and Cor cursed under his breath and kept slamming his cock down his throat, grabbing his neck harder, almost dizzy with how good it was, how close he was, how little he cared that Ardyn had come already, how easily he could have choked the man to death with his cock if he wanted to. 

Pulling hard on Ardyn’s hair, gripping his neck tight, he moaned as he came down his throat, rolling his hips forward into his mouth as he rode it all out, chest heaving, blood pounding in his ears. When it was done, he let go, pressing both palms flat against the wall above Ardyn’s head, trying to catch his breath. 

\--

Cor didn’t care that he’d come, and Ardyn would have had it no other way. As it was, he just clawed at the other man’s thighs, gestures growing weaker with every moment as he started to pass out. Cor wasn’t even drawing back far enough for him to breathe any more, more than just the slightest gasps, and he was going to faint like this, with the other man fucking his throat. There would be thumbprint bruises on his skin when they were done, and when Cor dragged him close enough that Ardyn could just sob wildly for breath, impaled on the other man’s cock, he savoured it.

This was freedom, if only for a moment.

Cor came hot down his throat, come splashing back into his mouth and dripping over his lips and chin, and when Cor let him go Ardyn slumped back, barely able to keep his balance as he landed hard on one hand, come painting his lips and chin and the back of his throat raw as if from shouting. He could still barely see as he gasped for breath, his lungs aching with how close he’d come to passing out, and he leaned his head against the concrete wall and looked up to the darker shadow he knew was Cor, even if he couldn’t see any details, and wiped off his mouth.

His lips were burning. They’d cracked at the edges from the force the other man had used, and they were bleeding sluggishly. Ardyn grinned. “Next time,” he managed, and his voice came out hoarse and well-fucked with that whisper that always accompanied getting your throat rammed raw, “Maybe don’t be so gentle about it.” 

\--

Ardyn slumped back as Cor leaned against the wall above him, both of them gasping for breath, though Ardyn much more, drinking the air in after nearly passing out. Cor watched him, putting his cock away and wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand. He felt like a mess but also more sated than he’d been in years.

Ardyn was even more of a wreck, with his hair sticking up and his lips bleeding, but the other man grinned at him in his usual way. Cor smiled a little at how raw and hoarse his voice was when he spoke. “Rougher,” he noted. “Got it.” He supposed at this point there was no question that there _would_ be a next time. Now that the insistent heat of arousal was gone and he was starting to catch his breath and feel more like himself, he was trying very hard not to remember who Ardyn was and what he’d done and the fact that Cor, only a few weeks ago, had killed him. He wasn’t going to think about that right now, though he had no doubt it would come back to haunt him later, when he was alone. 

\--

Cor looked pleased with himself as Ardyn fell back to try and get some semblance of self-control back and totally failed. He was just going to have to stay there and look like he’d just sucked a man off in an alley and come in his pants, which he had. There was still semen on his lips and chin, and he didn’t bother to clean it off, just leaned comfortably back against the wall of the building and plucked his hat back up off the ground, dusted it off, and dropped it onto his head.

“Good to see you, Marshal.” He waved genially. “I look forward to next time. I’m looking forward to it.” He grinned at the other man.

After Cor left, leaving him sprawled boneless in the afterglow, Ardyn stretched his feet out and sighed, rubbing come off of his lips, shut his eyes.

He could already see needing to visit the other man again. After all, he’d want to be sure that the boys got their car back. _If_ Ardyn let them have their car back in one piece...he was _sure_ Cor would be worried.

\--

Cor watched the man for a long moment, rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried, just to think, about what to do next. He should stay the night somewhere, take a shower, relax. Or… maybe not that. Maybe it would be better to hunt daemons in the night, to exert himself until he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open, so he wouldn’t lie awake thinking about what he’d done.

Ardyn had recovered his hat, waving and grinning at him. Cor looked at him, still not entirely sure what to make of him, and sighed. “Take a bath,” he said, somehow the only thing he could think to say. “You look like a mess.” Even more so than usual. There was something… satisfying about that, the fact that he’d caused it, but he didn’t let himself dwell on that for too long. He turned and straightened his jacket and circled back around the diner, got on his motorcycle and drove away from there as fast as he could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is followed by [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9120703) which falls between chapters one and two.


	2. these things that you're after, they can't be controlled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not going to stop you,” Ardyn managed after a moment, grinning at Cor. “You’re a big boy, Marshal. If you want to fuck the monster under the bed, I’m perfectly happy to just hang on for the ride and enjoy it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [the oh hello's "eat you alive"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5s0oB1EzpA)

Ardyn had just glared at the other man. Take a bath—he wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response.

 

A week and a half later, watching Noctis and his bumbling fools try to get the Regalia back, Ardyn had a real moment of fear that he might have to go find Cor and tell him that something awful had happened to one of the boys far sooner than he had planned it to. They really were very young and very foolish and very brave, and it was only his own intervention that had prevented Ravus from actually doing some real long-term harm. After the boys had left Ardyn had had a _conversation_ with the Prince the likes of which he was not likely to forget.

Ravus really needed to decide where, exactly, he stood.

Afterward, though, Ardyn had a slightly different errand to run. Cor was in Lestallum, resting before he returned to the hinterlands, and the boys had seemed in no hurry to go pick up Iris, instead needing to take the Regalia in for repairs, so Ardyn handily beat the boys there, and parked his ass on top of one of the hunt boards in front of the foot stalls, comfortably watching the sun set over the damaged Disk of Cauthess, kicking his heels slightly until the Marshal arrived, at eye height with his shoes.

\--

It was harder than he would have liked to try to forget what he’d done. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, the weight of it was there. He was too easily distracted when he went out hunting, he’d started drinking at a bar a few nights a week in Lestallum to try to relax, and even that barely helped. He didn’t have anyone to spend time with aside from Iris on occasion, and even she could only distract him for maybe an afternoon or so. He didn’t have any close friends among the hunters and even if he had, who could he tell about this? The ongoing internal crisis, the agony of struggling with all the twisted up emotion and indecision, he was forced to deal with on his own, day after day, night after night.

A part of him still wanted to believe it had all just been a nasty fever dream. As days passed, it started to feel more and more like that might have been the case, but admittedly, he was less and less sure what was real anymore when it came to Ardyn. He’d met with Chancellor Izunia, and he’d killed him. Or had he? Then the Chancellor had found him, and… he didn’t even want to think about what he’d done. On the other hand… he remembered the bite marks on his lips in the morning, the soreness on his dick where the man had scraped his teeth. And he couldn’t deny that he felt good, after all of that. Even if Ardyn was the Chancellor of Niflheim. Even if he was responsible for the fall of Insomnia. Even if…

His nights were plagued with those thoughts, taking him in circles. What he wanted, he shouldn’t want. He knew that. But that thought didn’t help him at all. As for what he would do when he inevitably saw him again… he wasn’t sure of that, either. And when he did see him, he wasn’t ready for it.

Yet, Ardyn was there, perched on the hunt board watching the sun set. Waiting for him, he knew.

A part of him was almost glad to see him. _Glad_. Was he really so lonely and deprived of human contact that he was starting to look forward to this? He should have been more horrified than he felt. He felt perfectly calm.

He stared at the hunt marks for a moment. One of them he’d planned to go after with a small group of other hunters in a few nights, before he left the area. Then he folded his arms, let out a slow breath, and looked up. If nothing else, he wanted to keep himself contained. Ardyn didn’t need to know about the numerous sleepless nights he’d spent in turmoil over him, the dreams, the drinks, the injuries he’d taken because he couldn’t focus anymore.

“You always find me,” he said. “Am I that obvious?”

\--

Ardyn pillowed his chin on his hand and grinned down at Cor, who stared up at him like Ardyn was a particularly undesirable stray. “You look tired, Marshal.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’d hate to see you get injured. You should get some rest.” No doubt he was a part of the problem preventing the other man from getting proper sleep. “But to answer your question, no.” Ardyn tapped the hunt under his foot with his heel. “I just am _very_ good at finding people. Call it a hobby. I like being able to know where everyone always is. I can tell you, it gives your Kinglet no _end_ of headaches. I think he’s starting to get aggravated with me.”

Ardyn sighed, gusty.

“From the looks of it, Marshal, _you’re_ starting to get aggravated with me as well. I wonder what it is that puts all of you so on-edge. After all, all I ever do is try to help, and you still look at me like something the coeurl dragged in. Have I done something to put you all on edge?”

Well, aside from the whole helping with the fall of Insomnia and the death of king Regis. And Cor killing him and then fucking him. And stealing Noctis. And stealing the Regalia.

And he hadn’t even gotten properly _started_ yet.

\--

He should get some rest, the man said. Easier said than done. Still, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose subconsciously. He was tired. Too tired to deal with Ardyn’s nonsense. At the same time, though, he didn’t exactly want him to leave.

He frowned. He wasn’t surprised Noctis didn’t like this man. “I _am_ aggravated with you,” he confirmed. “Though I can’t speak for Noctis.” He paused. “You know well enough why.” He didn’t even need to answer that question. “So, just tell me what you want from me this time. I haven’t got all night.” He’d planned on trying to go to bed earlier than usual. Not that he would sleep, but he was hopeful the rest, at least, might make him feel better. He couldn’t hunt effectively when he was like this.

\--

“What could I have _possibly_ done to aggravate you? I’m hurt.” He said it, didn’t sound it. Ardyn sighed again. “You and Noctis, making me the martyr. I have been nothing if not helpful, and you insist on talking about me as if I’ve done something monumentally unforgivable.” Like kill a king. Well, Glauca had done that. Ardyn had just let him.

“I don’t want anything from you, _Cor_.” He taste the man’s name on his tongue, let it roll off his lips almost too gently. “I just wanted to tell you that I unfortunately am once more out of a car. Really, I can see why the Regalia was the crown jewel of the royal fleet; she is _very_ nice. Very good for napping in. Far better than your motorcycle. I thought you might be worried that the boys had gotten hopelessly lost without it, and starts only know they’re off doing plenty of other things rather than come tell you they’re all in one piece. No thanks to their own self-preservation instincts, though. I’m afraid I rather had to pull a few strings to get them out of that scrape all intact.” Said scrape they wouldn’t have been in if he hadn’t stolen their car but, semantics.

\--

Cor just looked at him. The answer to what, exactly, aggravated him was extremely obvious though, admittedly, complicated. If he actually thought he felt hurt he might have tried to explain, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He was all words. Anyway, Cor wasn’t in the mood to talk about Insomnia.

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows a little in vague surprise when Ardyn insisted he didn’t want anything from him. He only had another status update for him regarding Noctis. He was… surprisingly grateful for that, given it was all true. To hear he was safe was always a relief. He didn’t expect Noctis to come to see him, but he did sometimes wonder how his journey was going. All he had to go on were Ardyn’s words, and what he heard from Iris or, on the rare occasion, over the radio.

“You came all the way here just to tell me that? And here I was thinking you missed me.” He almost smiled a little at his own vague attempt to jab back at the other man, reached up and grabbed one of his ankles, tugging sharply. “The least you could do is get off your damn perch and say hello.”

\--

Ardyn laughed. “You have a mighty high opinion of how I think about you if—” Anything else he might have said cut off as Cor reached out, grabbed his ankle, and unceremoniously yanked him down off of where he was perched, overbalancing the Chancellor. Ardyn yelped and caught himself before he tumbled to the ground by sliding halfway off the front of the sign and hooking his elbows over the top, his shoulders straining under his weight as he dropped himself the rest of the way to the ground, dusting himself off as he landed, throwing his scarf back over his shoulder.

He’d meant to do that. Obviously.

“Why?” He leaned against the sign as he spoke, tilting his head back to nudge his hat brim up onto his forehead, “Did _you_ miss _me_? You’d best be careful, Marshal, or perhaps people will start to think you’re fraternising with the enemy.”

\--

The man’s yelp as Cor tugged him down sounded like beautiful justice, and he almost laughed as he watched him scramble, drop himself down and make a graceful attempt at recovering from the fall. There was a moment as he watched him dust himself off and toss his scarf over his shoulder with such smooth, exaggerated gestures, that he would have loved nothing more than to pin him down and fuck him senseless. Would have loved to, but that would only be digging himself an even deeper pit than the one he was already in. He couldn’t let himself immediately start thinking with his dick every time they met.

Shifting slightly, he folded his arms again and snorted at the question. “Hardly.” He forced out, even if it was so much more complicated than that. “It’s not as if I’m the one seeking you out. And who’s the one fraternising here, when as far as I can tell, all you seem to be interested in is ‘helping’ King Noctis, stealing cars, and stalking me.”

\--

Cor shifted and folded his arms, glowering at Ardyn. It would have been a lot more impressive if he hadn’t looked so damn flustered while he did it, like he was just thinking about pinning Ardyn against the sign and kissing him. “Lucis is no enemy of mine,” Ardyn waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve only the greatest interest in her continued health and the preservation of the Blood Royal, believe me. I’ve done my best by your boy for that precise reason.” He fixed his hat. “But I can see that you’ve no more interest in anything I have to say, so I’ll just be on my way.”

He got about ten steps before he paused and, dramatically, turned back to Cor. “Except I’d forgotten... _someone_ did such a number on my car. I can’t be calling a drop ship to come pick me up in the middle of Lestallum. _Whatever_ shall I _do_?”

\--

Cor raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?” Funny thing to say, after he’d had a very strong hand in Insomnia’s fall. In killing King Regis. He didn’t believe for a second that Ardyn had suddenly changed his mind about all of that, but he didn’t exactly not believe him, either. He was up to something… else. But given his current theory that Ardyn wasn’t entirely human, maybe that wasn’t all that surprising.

Cor narrowed his eyes as he fixed his hat and turned, letting out a slow, shaky breath. He wanted to stop him, grab him and throw him back against the sign and slam their mouths together. Wanted to but… carefully, carefully restrained himself, shifting into parade rest to calm himself down. It was better this way. Better that Ardyn leave, better still if he never saw him again after that. It would be a weight off his shoulders. An end to the feeling that he was being haunted every waking moment.

He started to relax as he watched the man walk away. And then, Ardyn stopped and turned back towards him and Cor let out a quiet, long-suffering sigh. Of course.

“I’ll take you,” he found himself saying, before he could stop himself, and wanted to smack himself for it immediately. “On my motorcycle. There’s enough room for two.”

\--

Ardyn blinked. “Well, that’s forward of you.” He cocked a hand on his hip, and gestured to the city square. “What, right here in broad daylight, in front of everyone? Here I thought you would be a wine and dine sort of man, but if exhibitionism does it for you, I can’t say I have any sort of _aversion_ to it.” Cor tried to run over it with his following offer, but he’d still said it.

Ardyn would let it lie.

For now.

He brightened considerably at the offer and came back over, trailing his fingers down Cor’s coat over the lapel and the buttons, glinting in the orange bars of sunset light. “I’m honoured. My very own escort. You know, your bike really _isn’t_ that big, we’re going to have to get...very…..close.”

\--

Cor didn’t even realize he’d worded it like that until Ardyn pointed it out and he flushed, ears and cheeks red, even as he tried to cover it up. It only made it worse that he actually _had_ been thinking about it.

He only grew redder when the other man came over and started trailing his fingers down the front of his coat, over the lapel and the buttons. He didn’t even understand what it was about Ardyn, he was just… infuriating and attractive in the sort of way that made him want to throttle him, which he… had, on two occasions now. But it was more than that. Ardyn was purposefully drawing him in and toying with him and he knew it and still… still he was playing right into his hands without even thinking, and when he was with him, he didn’t even care.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, tried to regain some semblance of control over himself. “That’s… true. Somehow I didn’t think you’d mind.” He pulled away, though it was somewhat reluctant. “It’s parked over near the gas station.”

\--

Cor pulled away, and Ardyn frowned at the lack of contact. The other man did sound a little hoarse, though. And he kept looking at Ardyn like he wanted to throttle him. Again. “I don’t,” he confirmed, and started walking over to the gas station. He was sure Cor had other things to do before he left Lestallum, and he would let him go do so.

At the station, Ardyn bought a bag of chips and sat on the other man’s bike, thighs spread wide around the seat, leaned against the handlebars again with his hat over his eyes while he ate. Cor had parked in the shade this time, and he couldn’t take advantage of the sun to get warm like a pleased lizard while he waited for his ride.

\--

“Good,” Cor said, looking away before he did something completely uncalled for like tug him closer or tangle his fingers into his ridiculous hair. “I’ll be right there,” he told him. “I’ll meet you.” He hadn’t planned on leaving Lestallum quite so early. He was going to stay for another day or so, then head out to start tracking the daemon they were going to hunt. But it didn’t hurt to get a head start on that, either, and he didn’t mind camping at all. He’d drop Ardyn off somewhere and then head for the location, he just needed to pick up some supplies. Potions, mostly, and let the people at the inn know he didn’t plan on staying the night. He told them to let the other hunters staying there know he’d left already, and they agreed to pass the message on.

When he made his way to the parking lot and found his motorcycle, Ardyn was spread out across it, leaning on the handlebars, eating chips. Cor sighed a little at the sight, made his way over and grabbed the brim of his hat, pulling it up so he could see his face. “Ready to go? Then sit up so I can drive.”

\--

Cor really did walk like a General. He wasn’t meant to be a Hunter; he was meant for the life of a soldier. Ardyn did wonder lazily in the back of his mind what would happen if he turned Cor to his side; would he be able to have that lovely Marshal guarding him? He would certainly look the part, in fallen Insomnia.

The other man dragged his hat up, and Ardyn smiled at him like he wasn’t leaving chip dust on his bike seat. “You know,” he pointed out, reaching out and shoving a chip into Cor’s mouth just to see what he’d do, “If you like my hat so much, you can wear it. You’d look good with it.” His hair was so short that he wouldn’t get hat hair, either. “Fine.” Shifting forward, although he was sure Cor had meant for him to sit in the back, Ardyn fixed his hat and bundled up the half-empty bag of chips, tucking it into an inner pocket on his coat.

\--

Ardyn smiled at him with chip crumbs all over his face and scarves and Cor sighed, his chest all tight. He was doomed.

The other man shoved a chip in his mouth and Cor reached up reflexively to grab his wrist. He ate the chip, though, and let go a moment later. “I don’t like your hat,” he said. “And I wouldn’t look good in it.” He’d never really looked good in hats. Instead, he pulled it down over the other man’s forehead again. “You’ll want to hang onto it, though, once we start moving. Wouldn’t want you to lose it in the wind.”

Ardyn sat up, then, shifting forward, and Cor sighed again. He’d intended for Ardyn to sit behind him, so he could, well… drive, easily. And Ardyn wasn’t exactly small. He had a feeling nothing he said would get the man to budge, though, and he did want to get going before it really started getting dark.

So, he threw one leg over the seat and settled in behind him, looking over his shoulder and trying his best not to get a face full of hair and scarves and hat, nudged Ardyn’s legs aside so he could reach the foot pedals, and grabbed the handlebars around him. “You,” he said quietly, as he started the engine, “are not making this easy for me.”

\--

Cor grabbed his wrist so tight that Ardyn could feel the bones protesting, but he still ate the chip. “Well, _I_ like my hat, and you seem to like _me_ , so it’s a package deal.” Cor just shoved it down onto his head instead of continuing the conversation, so it stuck around his ears. It was going to ruin his hair like that; but he didn’t want to deal with losing it. Ideally, he’d just vanish it to join his Armiger, but that would have been really hard to explain to Cor, so instead he tucked it into his coat as well. It could survive a bit of flattening.

Cor settled onto the seat behind him, chin tucked over his shoulder, and Ardyn settled back against him, extremely pleased with himself. “Well,” he replied, just as low, letting the vibrations of the bike rock up through him, “That rather _was_ the intention. It’s no fun if you aren’t having to try, Marshal.”

\--

Ardyn settled back against him, warm in his arms, bundled up in all the layers of cloth and scarves he wore. Cor’s face was nearly pressed to his neck, tucked over his shoulder like that, and every time he breathed he could smell his clothes and his hair and he thought back to when he’d had him pinned behind the diner, up against the wall.

“I suppose,” he muttered to the other man, turning his attention back to the road. Kicking up the kickstand, he put his foot on the gas and pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the road that lead away from Lestallum. It was a little difficult to drive around Ardyn bundled in his arms, but he managed well enough.

“Comfortable?” he asked once they were out on the empty road, slowing down a little, keeping just around speed limit. He wanted to get to a campsite before nightfall yes, but…. He wanted to take his time, too. He’d never driven with anyone else on his motorcycle before. It was… surprisingly not all that bad. Even… nice, in a way, to have Ardyn so close. He just tried not to think about it too hard. Instead, he kept one eye on the road and turned his head slightly, pressing his nose against the side of his neck, and thought more about how much he wanted to slip his hands beneath all those layers and find his skin, kiss him until his lips were swollen, fuck him until he was so far gone he couldn’t manage any words at all.

\--

Cor was breathing on the shell of his ear, and Ardyn held tight onto the other man’s thighs as he knocked up the kickstand and shifted the bike into idling. He was reminded, suddenly and viscerally, of the first time he’d ridden in a car. It had been absolutely batshit terrifying and he’d loved every minute of it. He had a feeling he was about to have a very similar experience.

He grabbed onto the front of the seat after they started to pick up speed, and realised that there was probably a reason he always saw people riding in the back as a passenger on these death traps. Anybody else and he’d have tried to pull them over for a traffic violation. Someone could get hurt like this.

“Someone could get hurt like this,” Ardyn replied, his heart racing. This was actually _fun_ ; it had been years since he’d had fun. Especially with Cor tucking his nose in against the side of his neck, over his collar, breathing on the bottom of his ear. The bruises that he’d left last time had not even totally faded yet, still faint against his pale skin. They’d gone darker with his black blood than a normal human’s would, and he’d not done anything about them in the meantime. “I can see the appeal.”

\--

“Don’t worry,” Cor assured him. “I’m a very good driver.” He smiled a little. He’d helped Noctis and his friends learn how to drive, actually, and was the designated driver of the Regalia on many occasions. The motorcycle was something entirely different, though. It gave him ease of mobility and a great sense of freedom, though he’d never really considered it to be fun. Ardyn, at least, seemed like he was having a good time. He didn’t think he would have recommended driving with the passenger in front to anyone else, but he had long limbs and was managing well enough.

It would have been even easier if Ardyn wasn’t quite so distracting, all warm against him, his dick pressed tight against the other man’s ass, and he could see the faint bruises across his neck, still there even after so much time had passed. He let out a long, shaky breath against the side of his neck, slowing down without even thinking about it as he started paying a little less attention to the road, and more to the man settled up against him. “You’re very distracting,” he mumbled against his skin at last. “I might have to pull over.”

\--

Ardyn ground back against the other man as he felt Cor’s erection, hard, against the crack of his ass. This was only their third time meeting and he had the man thinking with his dick before he thought with any other part of his body; he was doing better than he’d really thought he realistically would. Cor was wrapped around his finger.

“That was rather the intention,” Ardyn admitted, sliding one hand back to grab Cor’s thigh. “I was hoping you might have to.”

\--

Ardyn ground back against him and he let out a slow, shaky breath. He was sure this was exactly what Ardyn wanted, and the other man barely even had to do anything. Cor was so far gone and he knew it. It was only their third time meeting, and he should have hated him and instead he was hard and he wanted him—and he couldn’t help himself. The other man’s hand was warm on his thigh and he eased his foot onto the brake, pulling over onto the side of the road, flipping out the kickstand as they came to a stop.

As soon as he had it in park and he could reasonably let go of the handlebars, he twisted one hand into Ardyn’s hair, muttered a brusque, “Come here,” turned his head and leaned around so he could shove their mouths together. He almost wished he’d done it the moment he saw him and had him on eye level, and there was still a voice in the back of his head nagging at him that this was the worst idea he’d ever had, but he ignored it, let himself live in the moment instead.

\--

As soon as they were stopped and Cor was pulling at his hair, Ardyn slid backwards and turned around, leaning his elbows against the steering wheel and grabbing the other man’s collar, dragging him closer by his jacket. The last time they’d kissed it had been an absolute ruin, and this was too—too much teeth and too much stubble, but it was exactly what he wanted. Cor kissed like he killed, all demanding as if to say _here I am, pay attention to me_.

That sort of thing was too much effort for him to keep up with, but he sure could enjoy it, fingers slipping under the Marshal’s jacket to ruck his shirt up, to feel the impressively corded muscle of his stomach hard under Ardyn’s hand. “You have a remarkable talent for making bad decisions, Marshal,” Ardyn murmured, turning his hand over to grab Cor by the front of his pants and haul him over so that he had to lift his thighs to let their erections ram into one another. “One might almost think you had some sort of a death wish.”

\--

Ardyn turned around for him, leaning back against the steering wheel and hauled him closer, and Cor grabbed onto the other man’s coat and curled his fingers there as he followed, kissing him open-mouthed and deep and demanding, biting at his lips and his tongue, drinking him in. He couldn’t remember wanting anything so desperately in his life as he wanted the other man in that moment. To have his attention, to be wanted, to feel his fingers under his jacket, touching his skin, was all completely overwhelming and so, so good.

He nipped at his lower lip before pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his skin all flushed, and he gasped when Ardyn hauled him over and their erections shoved together. It sent sparks of arousal up his spine and he slipped one hand beneath the edge of Ardyn’s jacket. He had so many damn layers.

“Maybe I do,” he muttered against his lips, rolling their hips together. “Still…” He held that thought. The last thing in the world he wanted was to think too hard or let himself get too emotional. He’d do that later, on his own time, alone. Grabbing the other man’s hips, he pulled them tighter together, rocking hard against him and leaned in to kiss him again.

\--

Cor was so _desperate_ , his loneliness was almost palpable. He just wanted someone to love him. That someone, of course, wasn’t Ardyn, but he could still take ample advantage of it.

The other man was fumbling to get into his clothes and totally failing, and Ardyn didn’t offer to help him in the slightest. Instead, he just nudged the hand lower to cup the front of his slacks, where his cock was hard. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ardyn murmured against his lips, bracing the heel of his foot on the body of the bike behind Cor, to get some leverage to buck back against him. “It will only come back to haunt you, I fear.”

Said the man trying to currently climb into Cor’s clothes, daemons take the hindmost. He, at least, had made enough bad decisions that one more bad decision literally could not possibly make a difference. Making out with a man who wanted him dead was, in the long run, almost definitely not going to possibly hurt him more than he’d already hurt himself, and he might even get some good orgasms out of it.

\--

He wasn’t exactly set on getting any of Ardyn’s clothes off, too many pieces and layers and the other man didn’t seem interested at all in helping him. Still, he held onto him, until Ardyn nudged his hand over to cup the front of his slacks. Cor grabbed his cock through the cloth, grinding his palm against it.

“I know,” he muttered. He shook his head a little, shuddered. He knew it would haunt him, he knew that. But. He’d made his decision, he could have walked away, and he didn’t want to. “Please. Just…” He just… wanted him, even if it was only for this.

\--

Cor ground his palm into his erection, and Ardyn threw his head back with a moan, heel digging into the other man’s back. “Just like that,” he whispered, voice cracking. How long had it been since someone else had put their hands on him? Centuries, Astrals, so long. “I’m not going to stop you,” Ardyn managed after a moment, grinning at Cor. “You’re a big boy, Marshal. If you want to fuck the monster under the bed, I’m perfectly happy to just hang on for the ride and enjoy it.”

\--

Ardyn threw his head back, moaning, one leg thrown around him, pressing on his back. Rocking his own aching erection against him, Cor kept rubbing his cock, grinding against his length with his palm, rubbing the head with his thumb through the cloth, watching his face. The way he reacted to it, the quiet praise made him moan under his breath.

He leaned over to bite at his lips again. “I wouldn’t want you to stop me,” he muttered. He knew he was in too deep. He knew it was too late for him now. He was already growing far too fond of the monster under his bed, as Ardyn put it.

\--

He certainly had absolutely no problem with Cor jerking him off where they were right now, hand warm on his cock through the cloth of his slacks. “Good,” he murmured back, grinding up against Cor’s fingers. “Because I wouldn’t.” Still holding Cor against him by the front of his belt, Ardyn slid his other hand up to grab the fabric of his shirt, Crownsguard make and more resistant than he would have liked to being ripped. Biting at Cor’s lower lip, he moaned into the other man’s open mouth.

The Marshal wanted to ruin him, that was obvious. But Ardyn had a hunch that the other man really wanted someone who wanted him; just him. Especially after Insomnia’s fall. “Please,” Ardyn whispered, rolling his cock up against the other man’s hand, looking up at him from beneath fluttering eyelashes, parting his bite-swollen lips, “Please, Cor.”

A little begging could go a long way.

\--

Ardyn arched up against his fingers and Cor kept grinding his palm down against him and stroking him. The other man was still holding him by the belt and Cor rocked eagerly against him, leaning into him more as Ardyn grabbed onto his shirt, pulling on it.

He moaned back into his mouth, bit back at his lips, and rutted against him more insistently, grinding his cock against him as he stroked him. He couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would be to get his cock in him and fuck him, to hear the sounds he made then, as he pinned him down and ruined him.

Ardyn begging, though, was something else entirely, the whispered plea, the way he rolled up against him, his lips parted. “Fuck,” Cor got out, grabbing his cock, grinding his fingers against the head, leaning down to slam their mouths together again. “Ardyn.”

\--

Cor’s dick was hard and huge against him, straining at the seams of his slacks, plush and hot with blood. Ardyn really wanted to know, at that moment, if it was possible to ride someone’s dick on a motorcycle, but thought better of it. For now.

His ploy worked perfectly though, and Cor was grabbing his cock through his clothes, grinding his fingers against the head, making Ardyn moan more. He had to close his eyes for a moment, bite the other man’s lip until it was bleeding, to keep from shouting in pleasure. “I swear to the gods if you fucking stop—” before he came, hard and hot and—he was so close—he needed to get his pants off, right now—

In the midst of figuring out where, actually, his arms were, Ardyn pulled his elbow back and jabbed the bike horn, hard, honking it directly in his ear. He yelped in surprise because he had _forgotten the damn things did that_ , and, flushed and flustered and hard as hell, he blinked at Cor, whose eyes were fever-bright with arousal again, his heartbeat thudding in his ears and not because he was so turned on his dick could cut glass, but because he was so startled if he’d been a cat his tail would have been puffed up.

“This is a terrible idea,” Ardyn said. Like that wasn’t _abundantly_ clear to fucking both of them.

\--

The more the other man moaned the more Cor felt like he was honestly losing his mind. His lips were all bitten and bleeding, and he was so close, they both were, and he had no plans on stopping at all, no matter how messy it would be, no matter how much he’d probably regret it later.

Then Ardyn shifted suddenly, his elbow going back, jabbing the horn, and he yelped like a startled cat, flustered, his face all flushed, and Cor startled too, just for a moment, straightening up. He looped one arm around Ardyn to support him and keep them both from falling off the bike, steadying the two of them, fingers grabbing at the back of his coat. He panted, for a moment, stared at Ardyn, pressing their faces together as he caught his breath, and then with his other hand he fumbled to get the other man’s pants open, to slip his hand beneath and find his cock, grabbing it in his hand, stroking him again.

“Shut up,” he growled, tired of thinking about what a terrible idea this was, whether he meant fucking him or doing it on the motorcycle, or the both of them coming and making a mess of their clothes, or all of it. It was a terrible idea, yes, but he was so hard he couldn’t think straight anymore. Stroking him harder, he kissed him again, dragging him closer, biting at his lips. “Don’t talk,” he ground out, rutting up against him again. He was leaking like mad, almost dizzy from the arousal despite the unwanted interruption of the horn honking. Pulling Ardyn more onto his lap, he shoved his cock up against the crack of his ass, groaning. “One of these days I’ll fuck you completely senseless.”

\--

Cor was staring at him with those sky-blue eyes over his tan cheeks, and Ardyn felt almost sick with how hard he was, how fast he was breathing. His lips hurt from kissing, and there was going to be beard burn on his chin when they were done. Why did he, even for less than five seconds, think that fucking on a motorcycle was going to be any sort of a good idea? Cor was panting for breath, flushed, sweat standing out on his hairline and on the visible curves of his collarbones.

And then Cor fumbled with his fly and shoved his hand into Ardyn’s pants, and whatever part of his brain had remained functional whited out into stupid, cottony static.

He let the other man drag him over, practically straddling Cor’s lap and his too-hard dick digging into the underside of his ass, Ardyn grabbing frantically at the back of his head, fingers clawing at his short hair (who cut their hair that short, you couldn’t _grab it_ properly) and Cor’s hand around his dick. They were going to ruin their pants. “Haven’t you got that yet?” Ardyn gasped, grabbing the back of the other man’s jacket with his other hand, nails digging into the fabric as he ground his hips down against Cor’s dick like he was riding it the way he wanted to be. “It takes a _lot_ more than grabbing my dick to make me shut up.” He grinned, dragging Cor’s head backwards by his hair to bite his lower lip again, worrying at the still-bleeding teethmarks he’d already left. “You’ll have to do better than that, Marshal.”

\--

Ardyn’s fingers clawed at his short hair as they rocked together, and Cor panted into his mouth, twisting his palm around his erection, squeezing at the base and dragging his hand up to the head, pressing his thumb over it. Ardyn grabbed at his jacket, too, grinding down against him and Cor moaned as he ground back up, just imagining what it might be like to be in him, to have Ardyn riding him the way he wanted it. He would have done it now, but not on the motorcycle. There wasn’t any way that would turn out well, it was hard enough as it was. He was mostly using his feet to keep the both of them from toppling off, given how ungainly their current position was, what with Ardyn practically in his lap on a motorcycle that wasn’t really meant to sit two in the first place, and certainly not like this.

He squeezed his dick again as Ardyn bit at his lip, drawing more blood, blood he’d been tasting in his mouth since they started kissing, to the point he’d almost forgotten it was bleeding. Growling in annoyance at his words, he let go of his coat in favor of reaching up and grabbing the other man, hard, by the throat, pushing all his weight forward to shove him down against the handlebars and pin him there, leaning down over him. With Ardyn’s legs thrown over his hips it was easier to shove his cock up against his ass even harder, grinding his erection there. He squeezed the other man’s cock in one hand and his neck in the other as he fucked against him, gasping as he bit back at his lips.

\--

Cor was going to make him come just from squeezing his base, but that was better than the last time, when he’d just come in his pants. Or the first time, where he’d come just from Cor choking him and killing him.

He let the Marshal grab him by the throat and shove him back against the handlebars, awkwardly leaning his weight onto the small of his back to keep from sounding the horn off again. Cor was taking most of his weight and fucking into him almost enough that Ardyn could imagine how it would feel to get stuffed by his great big dick. He couldn’t breathe at all around the hand on his throat, and Ardyn clutched the other man’s wrist, whining as he ground against his dick, all he could see the other man’s damn blue eyes, cutting right through him. Black at the edges of his vision, and all he could think of was how he could willingly die like this; incoherent and almost unconscious and so hard he was sick.

“Fuck,” Ardyn whispered, voice cracking, as he dug his nails into Cor’s wrist hard enough to draw blood and bit his lower lip, his shoulder slamming into the bike horn as he seized up and came, gasping with tears pricking at the backs of his eyes, his cock throbbing and jerking in the other man’s grasp.

\--

Ardyn clutched his wrist, whining at him and Cor watched his face, watched his eyes, blown wide and his lips, parted as he tried to get in air. He was more than a little pleased with himself at how quiet the other man was, how blissful he looked as Cor fucked up against him and squeezed his cock and his throat. That whispered curse, the fingernails digging into his skin were more than enough to urge him on, and he only gasped in built up arousal and annoyance when Ardyn accidentally slammed into the horn again. Shifting towards him as much as he could, he ground his cock into him in just the right spot, watching the other man as he came, and held onto him, held him down by his throat as Ardyn came in his hand, jerking against him.

He watched him, jaw clenched, still fucking determinedly against him until he was coming, too, letting out choked up moans and rocking forward, closing his eyes for a moment as it all surged through him.

Gasping, he let go of his throat, dragged him off the horn, and grabbed the handlebar to steady himself, to keep himself from buckling down over him. Wrenched his hand out from the other man’s pants, he wiped it off on his own. “There,” he whispered after a moment, settling back on the seat as he caught his breath. He was a mess, his trousers soaked, but it was worth it for that. Worth it to feel sated and content, to see Ardyn looking like just as much of a wreck as he did.

\--

Cor looked, when he came, startlingly human and remarkably young. There was something about his face, the way his brows drew down, the softness at the corners of his mouth. Innocent and unknowing, unprepared. He looked in desperate need of comforting, not of a monster between his sheets.

He was beautiful. And it was all the more painful for it that here he was, wasting his too-short mortal lifespan ruining himself with Ardyn. If he still had been able to feel guilty over that sort of thing, he would have felt guilty for it then and there. Instead, he just gentled his touch for a moment, dragged the pads of his fingers over the back of the other man’s neck as Cor wiped his hand off on his slacks. “Making a mess of your uniform for me, Marshal?” He was more breathless and hoarse than he wanted to be, his hair sticking to his skin with sweat, his fly open.

He zipped it back shut. “How do I look; ravished enough for you?” With swollen lips and rumpled clothes and all in disarray, no doubt.

\--

Ardyn’s fingers touched the back of his neck, more gentle than he ever thought he could be. He wanted to melt under that touch, and he did, just a little, closing his eyes and leaning into it. But before he could let himself slump down over him and beg for his affection, he breathed even and slow and straightened. That, he knew, was not what this was about. It wasn’t something he would ever have from this man. Still, the touch was nice, and he snorted and smiled a little. “Uniform’s a mess anyway,” he mumbled. It often was, dirty from the road and stained with the blood of daemons. Thankfully, the black cloth hid most of that.

Sitting back, he looked at the other man, all a mess, his hair even more wild than usual, lips swollen, eyes as wide and beautiful as ever. He almost laughed a little at the question. “Yes,” he said, pleased. “You look perfect.” And he meant that honestly. Ardyn was a mess, but an attractive one, especially like this. Sometime, maybe, he’d manage to get him out of all those clothes. He could only imagine he’d look even better, then.

Gently, he rested one hand on Ardyn’s thigh. “But you should straighten yourself. We still have a ways to drive before it gets too dark.” The sun was already on its way towards setting, and he wanted to get to a campsite before the daemons came out.

\--

Cor sat back, breath evening out as he regained his composure, and stared at Ardyn, who preened for him, combing fingers through his thick hair to straighten it. “I do my best,” he demurred, almost purring as he pulled his legs back from where he’d tangled them around the other man’s waist. “Oh, you’re no fun.” Ardyn tossed his hair and sighed as he stood up, sliding down off of the bike to straighten his clothes. Cor had done an admirable job getting them all tangled, and once he was passably reorganised, slid back onto the bike—this time behind Cor, properly, digging his sharp chin into the Marshal’s shoulder.

“Everyone knows it’s more fun to travel at night,” he continued, arms wrapped tight around the other man’s waist. He paused then, for a moment. He had not before that instant felt just how powerful the muscles of Cor’s chest, back, and waist were. He hid them under his uniform, all tailored for proper daily wear and protection, with all the newfangled tech that made Ardyn almost miss armour.

But the man was as solid as stone, and he had to really keep from shamelessly feeling him up. “You know, riding one of these without a helmet is dangerous. I may have to report you to the authorities so you can be ticketed for unsafe driving and reckless endangerment.”

\--

Ardyn combed his hair with his fingers, preening himself like a bird, and Cor just smiled and shook his head a little, getting off the bike as well as they disentangled. Having wet trousers wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but he’d had worse. He could rinse and dry them when he camped that night.

When he was done, he got back on the bike with Ardyn settling in behind him, chin on his shoulder. “I think,” he said, “that depends on your definition of fun.” It was much easier to reach the pedals and the handlebars now that he was seated in the proper position and, admittedly, as nice as it was to have Ardyn wrapped up in his arms, it was just as nice to have the other man up against his back, holding onto him.

He started up the engine again, turned back onto the road and picked up speed as they headed down the highway. “You’re sweet,” he muttered when Ardyn commented that he wasn’t wearing a helmet, smiling in some amusement. “But you really don’t need to worry.” He honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He had such an… odd sense of humor.

When the ground started to even out, he turned off the road, weaving around the rocks as he headed out into the empty countryside, and after a while, slowed down again, near some larger outcroppings. “I can let you off here,” he said over the hum of the engine, “for you to be picked up. It’s far enough from Lestallum, you shouldn’t have any issues.” He wasn’t sure he wanted Ardyn camping with him while he was trying to prepare for a hunt. Too distracting. And he’d likely meet up with the other hunters in the morning. It would not be good if Ardyn was still around, then. “I have business to take care of out here, I can’t take you with me.”

\--

Tucked up against Cor as he drove, Ardyn was discovering that it made it nearly impossible to have a conversation except by yelling at one another. “Oh, I’m not worried about _you!_ ” He shouted back, grinning madly, “I’m worried about setting a bad example to those boys! None of them ever wear seatbelts, you know. Why, before long they too could be as wild and desperate for oblivion as the Immortal!” They went off road after a while, and Ardyn had to hang on tighter to not be thrown off, taking advantage of it to practically hump the other man’s back as he dug his chin in, hard, to the tendons of Cor’s shoulder.

“What, not any use?” He laughed. Cor wouldn’t have even known what to do with him if he’d revealed what he was capable of. “I assure you, Marshal, I’d almost certainly make more problems than I would solve.” He pillowed his cheek on the other man’s shoulder and blinked up at him, coy. “Besides which, I shan’t camp with you. Dirt and mud and sleeping bags are _awful_ for the complexion. A bad bed means a bad attitude, you know. Maybe that explains why you’ve such a stick up your ass.”

\--

Of course, five minutes on the road and Ardyn was already being a pain again. He could forgive it to some degree given how warm the man was against his back, pressed up as tight as he could, and the fact that he could only half hear him over the engine and the whipping wind around them. As usual, the other man was trying to get on his nerves, he could tell, and the comment about being desperate already had him tense.

He looked back at him as he drove, looked at those gorgeous wide eyes, blinking at him as he smiled. Cor clenched his jaw, steeling himself against that look, turning back to the road. And then Ardyn said _that_ and all at once he bristled all over, slowed the bike down just a little more, turned and shoved him right off.

He deserved it. Let him call his friends to come get him, Cor wanted nothing to do with him.

Turning back to the road, he slammed his foot on the gas until the engine roared, kicking up dust behind him as he headed for the campsite.

\--

Cor glanced back at him, looking livid, and Ardyn just grinned at him before the other man slowed down slightly, took one hand off of the handlebars, and shoved Ardyn off the back of the bike. He yelped in surprise, clawing at Cor’s jacket, but it was too late and he toppled backwards off onto the tarmac. He hit hard enough to bounce, breaking a few ribs with the impact, and rolled a good twenty feet before he came to a stop. His head was bleeding, his skull cracked, and his arm was definitely broken. He coughed, stumbled to his feet, and straightened awkwardly.

Cor was already driving away. Ardyn waved after him and cupped his good hand to his mouth to shout after him “Thanks, darling!”


	3. there is no courage in flirting with fear to prove you're alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor had no idea what the monster he’d brought into his bed was, but here he was, asking for more anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [the oh hello's "eat you alive"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5s0oB1EzpA)

Cor didn’t feel bad at all for shoving him off. He’d survived worse.

He did his best to put Ardyn out of his mind, then, as he reached the campsite, pitched his tent, cooked some food, and slept. It was, surprisingly, the most peaceful sleep he’d enjoyed in a long time. No strange dreams, no waking up in a cold sweat. He slept until morning, drove out to the location the beast was said to wander, and spent the day tracking it to its lair, spent the night taking it down and camping amicably with the other hunters. He actually felt rested, more alive, more like himself than he had in years. He hardly thought about Ardyn, or who he was, or what Cor had done to him and with him. Maybe he’d finally made some sort of twisted peace with the whole idea.

Anyway, he was sure Ardyn was off with his… Niflheim friends. He doubted he’d see him for at least another week, maybe two or three since when the man tracked him down seemed to be whenever it suited his fancy, or whenever he had something interesting to shove in his face.

When they were done with the hunt, he got on his motorcycle and put away his equipment and drove back towards Lestallum to report in their success and collect the reward. He took almost the exact same route he had to drive out there, past the campsite, up along the road that lead to the outpost, the same path he’d driven with Ardyn a day and a half ago.

He caught sight of something, as he drove up along the road, that he thought at first was a monster of some kind but… when he looked again, he thought he saw a familiar head of maroon hair peeking out from the ditch and slammed his foot on the break. He wasn’t sure, at first, if he was just imagining but… still, he parked and got off, slowly approaching.

And it was, surprisingly, actually Ardyn. He looked like a mess, and Cor realized this was only maybe twenty feet up from where he’d shoved him off his bike when going the other direction. He just stared at him for a moment, then folded his arms.

“Ardyn,” he said, not sure if he should be concerned. “Have you not moved any further since I left you here?” He hadn’t waited for him, had he? When he had friends who could have easily come to pick him up?

\--

He’d healed the worst of the damage from falling off of the bike, which had been a pain, only to walk maybe thirty feet and, in the dying light of day, be held at gunpoint and robbed.

For all the effort the young bandits had put forth, Ardyn had gotten a lump on his head, a rather large gash over his side and his still-tender ribs, a black eye, and a sore jaw. He’d also been robbed of his phone, which made it impossible for him to call his drop ship. When they’d discovered that was the only thing of value he had, they’d added insult to injury and stabbed him before pistol whipping him and dumping him in the ditch. Thus the lump.

He could have jumped to pretty much anywhere in time, or teleported back to Niflheim (or anywhere else, actually) but rather than do anything at all, he’d sat down where they had left him and decided to have a good long sulk just for the drama. And also because Cor would have to eventually come back, and he wanted to make the Marshal feel bad.

It took until well into the next day, which was a stretch for sitting in a ditch and sulking even for him, for Cor to arrive back, the distant sound of his bike up the highway finally resolving into the man himself, and he parked and walked over to the ditch to stare down at Ardyn.

He stared back, balefully, one hand cupped to the side of his head where it was still sluggishly bleeding from the fall the day before. “Well,” he began after a moment, gesturing to himself and the ditch, “As you can see, I did indeed get about thirty feet before some some of your find young Lucian lads decided that a confused, bleeding man on the side of the road was perfect to rob, and took my phone. And here I have sat, brooding, miserable, wet, and covered in blood for a day, lost and alone in your beautiful homeland countryside.”

\--

Cor stared down at him as Ardyn looked up, holding a wound on his head. He looked even worse for wear than he could have been after being tossed off the bike. Taking a fall like that didn’t give you a black eye. But, robbers made sense. There were a few small bands of them out around the highway, and Ardyn did look like the sort who would be a prime target. He sighed. It was hard not to feel just a little bit bad. Not for shoving him off the bike, but for leaving him out there alone without making sure he got in touch with his friends.

Well, he couldn’t just leave him there. No matter how he felt about him, he wasn’t about to abandon him, injured and miserable and with no phone in the middle of nowhere. “Come on, then,” he said, reaching one arm down to help him out. “I’m heading back to Lestallum and we can stop somewhere and camp along the way and fix you up.” Oh… he didn’t like camping, right. “Or… find a gas station with a camper, if that’s more suited to your fine tastes.”

\--

Cor was staring at him critically, and Ardyn sniffed at the other man. “Oh, like you’re suddenly feeling charitable after tossing me on the road like a sack of potatoes.” He imperiously held up a finger. “Just because you can’t kill me doesn’t mean you should _try_ , Marshal.” But still, the offer was one he didn’t want to pass up, just mostly because he wanted to see what the other man would do with him.

So Ardyn took the proffered hand and, rather unsteadily, got to his feet. He winced at the pain that lanced from his injuries, but valiantly soldiered on despite it.

Read: he immediately threw his free hand around Cor’s neck, the other cupped to his still-bleeding side, and dramatically fell onto his shoulder. “An Imperial Chancellor, stitched up in a gas-station camper. Oh, the indignity and humiliation of it.”

\--

“You deserved that,” he said. But he wasn’t about to comment on it any more than that. He didn’t exactly feel the need to excuse himself. And Ardyn took his hand anyway, getting to his feet, wincing, and Cor couldn’t tell if he was being overdramatic but… some of those injuries did look like they hurt.

The other man immediately threw an arm around his neck and Cor let out a long-suffering sigh, holding him around the waist to support him as Ardyn slumped against his shoulder. He didn’t mind it nearly as much as he should have.

“You’re a disaster,” he muttered, pressing his nose into his hair for a moment. He smelled just like he looked, like he’d been sitting in a ditch for almost two days, and Cor made a face. “Would you rather I leave you in the ditch?” He assumed the answer to that would be no, and helped him over to his motorcycle, getting the map out of his back pocket to look over the roads briefly. “It’s not too far from here. I need to gas up anyway.”

\--

Cor shoved his nose into his hair, a sturdy arm around his waist, and Ardyn just melted more into him; overdramatic as ever. He felt gross, and he certainly looked it too, no doubt. “Yes, as people are so fond of telling me.” He had no interest in staying in the ditch, and let the other man haul him back to his bike and sat on the rear of the seat, leaning his sluggishly bleeding face into Cor’s side. Crownsguard uniform could take the black. The blood probably wouldn’t even show up.

“Thank you,” he settled on at last, magnanimously. He could be thankful if he tried. And, at this precise moment, he definitely was thankful. As soon as Cor was onto the bike he melted around the other man’s back again, free hand looped around his waist and fingers tangled in the sturdy cloth of his shirt. “I suppose I could use with a shower.”

\--

He didn’t mind in the least that Ardyn kept melting against him, leaning on him even with his face bleeding in some places. His uniform had taken much worse than that. And it was sort of nice to have the other man depending on him for this.

When he thanked him, though, Cor paused and looked over at him. “You’re… welcome,” he said, not sure exactly how to respond to some form of gratitude, however small, coming from him.

Climbing onto his bike, he waited for Ardyn to get comfortable, melting around him, pressed warm against his back, fingers tangled in his shirt. Never would he have thought he’d be here, with the Chancellor snuggled up against him on his motorcycle, giving him a ride to a camper, although… ever since he met him, it had all been so incredibly bizarre he still felt like he was in a dream sometimes.

“You could,” he said. “And so could I, to a… lesser extent.” He started it up again, put his foot on the gas and drove, out along the empty highway, turning off onto a smaller side road to get to the gas station he’d seen on the map. It was tiny, not nearly as large as Hammerhead. It didn’t have an inn or even much of a diner, just the gas pump, and the trailer up for rent for the night, and an old man running a shop.

He drove his motorcycle right up to the front of the camper and turned to help Ardyn off. “I’ll pay,” he said, “So don’t worry about that.” He knew Ardyn didn’t carry any money, and someone would have to pay the small rental fee, and maybe something to eat.

\--

When they got to the gas station, Ardyn slid off of the bike and snorted as he pushed his grubby hair out of his face when Cor said he would pay for it. “A whole thirty gil,” his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why, Marshal, you really know how to treat a man. I’ve never been so pampered in my life.” He stood up, shaky, and climbed into the camper, leaning on the door handle. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

Letting Cor go, Ardyn stumbled into his second camper in as many months, and crammed himself into the tiny bathroom to strip off his clothes in there. His coat would survive, no doubt, and he could deal with the damage to his waistcoat. His hat, scarves, and trousers were fine and just badly in need of a wash, but as he inspected his shirt in the shitty bathroom light, he was forced to admit it was a bust. He’d have to deal with it until the following morning, because there were black stains all over the white cloth.

Balling it up, Ardyn climbed into the shower and turned the water up hot and just miserably soaked himself. His head was tender, as were his newly-healed ribs and arm, and the gash on his side would have needed stitches in another time, but they had things like Hi-Potions now that would do the job just as well. He just rinsed the black blood dried on his skin off, and then unwrapped the crappy camper soap and single-use shampoo bottles and hissed as he scrubbed the blood and grime off of his skin, untangling his thick hair with his fingers. It made a man almost miss the old days. He could have killed for a steaming tub of water at that moment.

When he was done, he took one of the towels and gingerly dried off his hair as best he could, as well as his body while being careful not to reopen any partial scabs, and tied the towel around his waist before he opened the door out of the bathroom, steam rushing into the camper. He probably should have just killed himself so he hadn’t had to deal with this mess.

“Marshal,” Ardyn called, leaning in the doorframe, fingers spread over the cut on his side, “You don’t happen to carry potions with you, do you?”

\--

Cor snorted at him. He could have driven to Lestallum and paid for them to stay there, but… he hadn’t exactly been focused on comfort. More on getting Ardyn to the closest place possible where he could rest. It wasn’t supposed to be a treat.

“Fine,” he said when the other man announced he was going to take a shower. He paid for the camper in the meantime and got his pack off his motorcycle, moving it inside and locking the door so they could have some privacy. The last thing he needed was anyone at all stumbling in on the two of them accidentally.

The shower was going and Cor just unpacked a few things, stripped off his uniform jacket, and stretched out on the one of the beds while he waited, closing his eyes and just giving himself a moment to relax, leaning back against the pillows.

When he heard the bathroom door open and looked up, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but somehow it was not Ardyn in only a towel, with his hair all wet, water glistening on his pale skin. He looked so much different without all the layers of clothes and he was gorgeous. Not the sort of attractive most people would have gone for but… he was, and maybe part of it was that it was his first time seeing him without all those ridiculous clothes, after fucking him twice, but he found himself with his breath caught in his throat and his chest tight.

Cor sat up on the bed, cheeks flushed, and let out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, I do. Sorry, I … should have offered one to you when I found you.” He leaned over to shuffle around in his pack for a moment and pulled one out, crossing the room to hand it to him. “Here. That should take care of the worst of your injuries.”

\--

Cor stared at him boggle-eyed, a flush staining his too-sharp cheekbones and tan skin. Ardyn cocked an eyebrow and leaned more against the doorframe, tilting his head as the last few water droplets rolled down the column of his neck and over his collarbones. “You’re staring at me like you’ve never seen a man naked before.” After two thousand years, he didn’t really have anything like modesty any more, but he also wasn’t used to men staring at him like Cor was now. He was already looking like his pants were a little _too_ uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” Ardyn brushed aside his excuse and waited for the other man to hand him one of the things, using it as soon as he had it. The rush of it left him gasping as his bruised ribs knit back up properly, and the skin over the cuts on his torso scabbed. Even his sore arm and leg didn’t hurt as much, and a gentle examination of his head with his fingers revealed that there, too, the skin had knit up and stopped bleeding, although it still ached. His eye was even less swollen.

Just as good as a Cure, and far less damning.

Dropping his hand from his side, Ardyn stared down his nose at where the other man was watching him.

Cor really would look very good on his knees.

Stepping a little closer, Ardyn raked his fingers through the Marshal’s short hair, off of his face. “Do you want something, Marshal?” He asked, voice pitched low, the towel slung low on his hipbones.

\--

Cor knew he was a fool for being drawn in so easily, a fool for finding him beautiful as he leaned against the doorframe, naked but for the towel, water droplets from his hair rolling across his skin. And he’d seen plenty of men naked before. That wasn’t uncommon, being a soldier. Ardyn was just… something else entirely.

He waited for him to use the potion, familiar with the odd feeling it always sent through you as it healed and your body hastily repaired its own injuries. That technology saved them quite a bit of trouble, though.

When it was done, he didn’t move away, just watched him, and Ardyn stared right back at him, stepped forward and ran his fingers through his hair. Cor felt all his muscles relax as he closed his eyes partway and leaned into the touch. He’d more or less accepted that he was done for when it came to this man. He was in too deep, there was no way out for him anymore. But there was a certain relief in having accepted that, too. He could have fallen to his knees for Ardyn in that moment and not cared.

He swallowed at the question and met his gaze. He wasn’t even going to try to deny it, he wanted so much. Wrapping an arm around his waist, he pulled him closer and muttered a helpless, “Yes.”

\--

Cor leaned into him, baring the back of his neck—a gesture of submission that made Ardyn curl his lip. Cor had no idea what the monster he’d brought into his bed was, but here he was, asking for more anyway. The other man wrapped a hand around his waist, whispered his plea, and Ardyn sighed, pushing his wet mop of hair out of is face with his forearm. “Oh, if we must,” he murmured, as if this was some great loss, and he pulled Cor’s head back by the hair at the nape of his neck. “Don’t go getting all soft on me, Marshal. If you want it, come and get it.”

\--

Ardyn sighed at him, and agreed, and there was the sense to it that Ardyn was, reluctantly, letting Cor have his way, that he was entirely at the other man’s mercy. He hadn’t quite realized just how much he wanted it like that, or how hard it would make him.

As soon as Ardyn urged him on, he tangled one hand tight into his wet hair, dragged him against his lips, kissed him hard and open mouthed as he pulled the other man as close as he could, just for a moment, rubbing their hips together so Ardyn could feel how hard he already was. It felt so much better like this than it ever had before, to have his hands on the other man’s skin, to feel his whole body against him without all those clothes in the way, and he was just itching to get his trousers off, too. They were uncomfortably tight, and he had no interest in coming in them for the second time in two days.

Biting at his lips, he wrapped his fingers around the other man’s towel to tug it away as he backed him towards the edge of the bed and pushed him down onto it, following after and leaning over him, already panting. He’d never wanted to fuck anyone so badly in his life, and with Ardyn already naked he was not going to pass up the opportunity to finally get his cock in him, no matter what he had to do.

\--

Cor stood up next to him, fingers tangled tight into Ardyn’s damp hair, and pulled him over to kiss him. His hands ended up pressed palms-first against the other man’s chest, fingers digging into the muscles of the top of his shoulders. There was something about Cor, the sheer _size_ of the man, that made Ardyn feel smaller than he was; Cor was just a stone wall.

It was nice, actually.

Sliding his hands up to link his wrists behind the Marshal’s neck, Ardyn let the other man topple them both backwards onto the shitty camper bunk, his ankles catching on Cor’s powerful hips and thighs. He obligingly shifted his ass up to give Cor room to tug his towel off, and with it gone, sprawled backwards on the bunk, leaning on his elbows, knees splayed outward and his hair sticking damp to his face and neck. “You asked me once if all my hair was this colour,” Ardyn murmured, smiling, predatory, head tilted slightly to the side. “Is this a satisfactory enough answer for you?”

\--

This was what Ardyn wanted, or so he could tell from the lack of complaint, and it was just what he wanted, too. The other man naked under him, legs around his hips, and Cor sat back for a moment to look down at him, sprawled out on the bed. He raised his eyebrows, resting his hands on the other man’s hips. “So it is,” he muttered, smiling a little. He gently brushed the hair around his cock for a moment, the same red as it was on his head, and spread his palm there, ground his thumb against the base of his dick. That was… interesting. He’d never met anyone with a natural color like that, but it was growing on him more and more. It certainly made Ardyn stand out.

Since he was sitting up already, he let go of the other man for a moment to get his own shirt off, pulling it up over his head and discarding it off the side of the bed. It was a mess and needed a wash, anyway.

Grabbing Ardyn’s hips again, he jerked them up against his own, grinding against him as he leaned down over him to bite at his lips. This man was going to drive him mad whether he liked it or not. Already had. This, now, was… well, he had the Chancellor of Niflheim naked in his bed. He didn’t so much as deserve to beg for forgiveness from all the Lucian Kings, but when he met Ardyn’s eyes, he knew it was far too late for him.

“I want to be in you,” he ground out, as he reached down to fumble at his belt. “Desperately.”

\--

Cor was staring at his dick, and Ardyn realised to his surprise that Cor hadn’t actually _seen it_ yet. Despite jerking him off the day before, he’d never pulled his dick free of his slacks, and he looked astonished by the fact that Ardyn’s natural hair really, actually, was maroon. He bit his lower lip as the other man grabbed the base of his cock, fingers trailing over the sensitive skin under his pubic hair, the vein on the underside of his erection.

It was almost a mercy when Cor pulled away to tug his shirt over his head, revealing the absurd width of his shoulders, his muscled, tapered waist, the hair on his chest and stomach. His hair on his head was greying, but there it was still chestnut brown on his tan skin.

Cor pulled him over by his hips (better than his ankle, like the day before) and Ardyn hissed as the other man bent over him, barely fitting in past the low bunk above, grinding their hips together. He grabbed, clawed, at Cor’s shoulders for leverage, at his sharp hipbones. For a moment, the other man looked...nonplussed was not the right word. Frightened, perhaps, at the realisation of what he had in his bed. Ardyn, who had spent most of his life getting well-justified revenge, loved the poetic irony.

“Well,” he quipped back, stretching languidly along the bed, which was too small for him, “You certainly aren’t apparently making any effort. Before we both grow old and die, Marshal, or I’m going to catch cold just waiting here for you to get your damn pants off.”

\--

Ardyn grabbed at his shoulders as he ground their hips together. It wasn’t the easiest fit, getting the two of them onto the lower bunk when they were already both quite tall, but he managed well enough. Well enough, especially when the man beneath him was as demanding as ever. Cor sighed at him, undoing his belt buckle, pulling it open and pushing his trousers and underwear down around his hips. “Working on it,” he growled to the other man as he got them around his knees and shook them off to join his shirt on the floor. It felt so much better just to get them off, to get his dick out of the tight confines of his trousers and he hissed between his teeth. Pressing their hips together again, he shoved his dick up in the crack of the other man’s ass, holding him there with one hand as he rocked against him, pressed his other palm to the base of Ardyn’s throat and leaned back over to bite at his mouth.

“I haven’t got any lube,” he said as he realized it, though somehow he doubted Ardyn cared. On top of that it had been years and years since he’d done this, but he didn’t remember it being all that hard. It was just going to be very, very tight, though the thought of that made him almost dizzy with arousal.

\--

Cor was exasperated with him, and Ardyn giggled as the other man finally managed to get his slacks off, struggling to kick them over his knees. When he finally did, though, Ardyn just had to take a moment to reach for his cock—stars, it was huge, damp at the tip and red with blood and arousal, hanging hot between his thighs. Ardyn had to grit his teeth and hiss for a moment before Cor settled over him, canted his hips up, and slid his cock up the crack of Ardyn’s ass.

That, and the hand digging heel-first into his throat, practically made him come then and there. He was dizzy and needy, and he grabbed at the back of Cor’s neck and his shoulder again, to pull him close, to tug on his lower lip, nails digging hard into the corded muscle of his upper back. “Do I look like I care?” he snarled back, hoarser and quieter than he would have liked with the hand choking him. He didn’t want it anyway; he wanted to bleed and hurt and wake up in the morning hardly able to walk. He wanted to feel it for _days_ , wanted too much friction and to cry when he came.

Dragging Cor further over him to let the other man pin him to the sheets of the camp bed, all powerful muscle and heat, Ardyn moaned and reached down to grab the other man’s dick, stroking from base to tip. “You’re a big boy,” he whispered, staring up at the Marshal through half-lidded eyes. “That’s going to hurt in the morning. You don’t feel bad, planning on breaking me like this?”

\--

Ardyn’s fingers dug at the back of his neck, at his muscled shoulders, and Cor let out a slow, shaky breath. He about figured Ardyn wouldn’t care, but hearing him say it like that made his cock jump. It would hurt. The other man would be feeling it for days, and he _wanted_ it. “Fuck,” Cor almost groaned as he said it. It didn’t help that Ardyn kept touching his dick, stroking him, and he rocked into the other man’s hand and growled in quiet arousal under his breath, watching his eyes.

“No,” he said. “Not in the least.” He let up pressure on his throat for a moment to grab his hair instead, turned the other man over and shoved him down into the sheets by the back of his head. Getting his knees under him, he sat back on Ardyn’s thighs, sucking on his own fingers. It would be easier this way, and better. It wasn’t meant to be emotional, they both just wanted a hard, desperate fuck.

Finding his entrance, he shoved two fingers up into him, twisting and working them in, just getting him open enough that he could get his dick in him at all without an unnecessary amount of effort. He was hot and tight and Cor nudged his thighs apart with one knee, grinding his dick up against his ass and then, taking it in his other hand and pressing the head up against his entrance, too, where his fingers still were, holding him open enough that he could start to push his cock inside.

\--

Cor stopped choking him and instead grabbed Ardyn by his hair. “Let go,” he started to spit, as the other man dragged him forward and shoved him back down into the sheets, mashing his face into the pillow. Ardyn tried to kick, heel connecting with Cor’s rock-solid knee, but he didn’t have any leverage. Especially not when Cor just flat fucking sat on him. “Cor—”

When the Marshal shoved two fingers in him, Ardyn shuddered hard all over and clenched his fists in the shitty mattress, wheezing in one long hiss out his nose and into the pillow. He could barely breathe, but at least the hot, angry moan that bottled up in the back of his throat didn’t have very far to go. Cor fingerfucked just like he gave handjobs: brutal, fast, efficient, and in just the right way that it hurt. Ardyn couldn’t do anything but struggle underneath the other man, rolling his hips up but with no leverage. Cor’s cock, hot and damp at the tip, was pressing against his crack, and he felt faint, hysterical as he panted for ragged breath.

He felt sick with want again, breathing too fast and too shallow, Cor shoving his thighs apart and then, _gods_ , pulling him open and sliding just the head of his dick in. He was wide, too, wide enough that it had cracked Ardyn’s lips to suck him off, and it _hurt_ going in, too much friction and burn.

It was the best damn thing he’d ever felt. “Fuck you,” Ardyn swore, struggling up against Cor above him, his shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to push him off. “Oh, fuck you. Just do it, please, just do it.”

\--

The other man was starting to protest, spitting and hissing at him, but he could feel Ardyn gasping, too, could feel his heart racing. He was all hot and angry and desperate and gorgeous like this, and Cor had never wanted anyone so much in the world. The more Ardyn struggled and cursed the more he just wanted to pin him and fuck him and he knew that was exactly what Ardyn wanted, and exactly what he was going to do.

Even as Ardyn begged him for it, he pulled his fingers out, using them to guide himself in another inch, gasping as he did it, then thrust his hips forward, shoving his cock in deeper, as hard as he could. It wasn’t easy at all but he forced it, trembling a little at the heat and the pressure around his cock, the sort he hadn’t felt in years and years. And this, this was even better than he remembered. Ardyn was so tight Cor had to stop just to gasp for breath, to keep himself from coming then and there.

He pressed one hand to the other man’s back to keep him from struggling once he was a few inches in, splayed his fingers and pushed down to pin him against the bed, rolled his hips forward and shoved in deeper. He wanted to fuck him, wanted it so badly he clenched his jaw and forced himself the rest of the way until he was balls deep, straddling his hips, panting.

Cor got his other hand around the back of Ardyn’s neck, beneath his hair, pressing his face down into the pillow as he rolled his hips forward, eyes rolling back in his head. “Oh, fuck,” he ground out. “You feel so damn good.” Better than anything in his life just… hot, so hot, clenching tight all around him, and he didn’t even let himself think about it, just started fucking into him in sharp, hard thrusts, groaning at the friction he desperately needed more of.

\--

Cor could at least listen to begging, and as he pushed home Ardyn buckled over slightly, sobbing into the pillows. It _hurt_ , it hurt. It hurt so much, he felt like he might burn up from Cor breaking him apart from the inside out. His breath kept hitching into sobs in his chest, and he bit his lip as Cor shoved him down onto the bed and pushed the rest of the way home. Ardyn couldn’t even tell where he started and the other man ended. Everything was just a blank, white slate of heat and pain and throbbing arousal. His throat hurt.

He was crying, wet, ragged sobs into the pillow, as he clawed for something other than sheets and mattress to hold onto.

Cor pressed his face further into the pillow, cutting off what little air he had left, and Ardyn whined low in his throat, rolling his hips backward into the other man’s cock. He was going so _slow_ it was anguish, just sitting deep inside him. Ardyn felt broken open and raw and _alive_ and he wanted to feel that more. He’d forgotten how to feel alive, how to feel. Something, anything, anything like this. It was too much friction and too little slick and he was bleeding and _needed_ something awful. “You know what they say,” he snarled into the pillow, breaking Cor’s too-slow pace, egging him on, “About all talk and no cock.”

\--

Ardyn was gorgeous beneath him, sobbing as he gasped into the pillows, hips rolling up towards him, begging for more despite having no preparation, writhing as he clawed at the sheets. He was desperate and alive and wanted him, wanted Cor like no one ever had in his life.

When the other man snarled at him, urging him on, Cor shoved him down harder by his back, grabbed his neck tight in his hand, squeezed, and pressed his face harder into the pillow. He pulled his cock out halfway, groaning at the friction, and slid back in, hard, shuddering, just to get himself going. Then he pulled out again and, finally, started fucking into him hard and fast, jerking his hips, just barely pulling out before he shoved himself back in again each time. It was quick and reckless and desperate and the tight heat around him was driving him absolutely mad, making him fuck him harder to get more friction as he went on.

Leaning down over the other man man, he let out a deep, grating moan, pressed all his weight down against him and bit down on the slope of his neck, muffling the quiet sounds he let out in Ardyn’s skin. He wasn’t going to last much longer, he was so close, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how good it felt to fuck him, how perfect he was inside, and wanting more.

\--

Cor shoved him harder down into the bed, hard enough that Ardyn couldn’t breathe. And just like that, choking on pillow stuffing, he got fucked so hard he couldn’t see, whiteout hardness and the sound of Cor’s ragged breath and the loud slap of skin on skin. All he could think about was how hard the camper would be rocking from Cor nailing him like if he didn’t Ardyn would launch out of bed, which he might have. The only sound he could make was little high whines, his cock shoved into the sheets throbbing with every too-rough thrust on his inner walls ripping him up. His head was pounding, blood hot and wild, and he shoved back hard onto the other man’s dick, clenching down hard to keep him inside, rolling back onto the hard cock inside him to get starburst pressure on his prostate that left him drooling on top of his hysterical tears.

If he’d been able to breathe, to get any noise out, he would have been screaming, he was sure, as Cor took him hard enough that he wouldn’t be able to sit down for days, probably, sore and tender and tense and totally ruined. It had been so long since someone had just shoved him down and mounted him like they were dogs in heat, and he wanted it something awful, wanted to come apart, wanted to combust and—

Cor doubled over, and bit down hard on the back of his neck, hard enough to draw blood. Ardyn had a split-second moment of breaking skin and blood and the sickening wrench deep in the pit of his stomach before he came, inhaling pillow and screaming as his world crumbled apart, his ass burning and full and his prostate sore and aching, his cock dug into the sheets and he couldn’t _breathe_.

It was like inverting the world, tearing apart reality and making it whole again, his whole body almost on fire, skin prickling from foot to head with the raw, unbridled power of it, as he cried helplessly at the yawning collapse inside him, the gasp and heave Cor had left open, the sound of shattering glass and electric lightning loud as his whole body surged, rippling, glowed.

If he’d been able to, in that moment, he probably would have thought that, for the first time, he was _human_.

\--

Even the other two times they’d fucked it had been nothing even close to this. He was practically blinded by the arousal and the friction and the heat, and all he could hear from Ardyn were tiny, high-pitched whines as Cor choked him and fucked him, shoved him down and took him just the way he wanted, and those sounds only drove him on to fuck him harder. All reasoning gone, he drove on through sheer instinct alone, the desperate need to fuck someone after so many years alone, and he knew he was tearing the other man open on his cock, fucking him in two, and Ardyn _loved_ it.

He tasted blood in his mouth as he bit as his skin, shoved himself in and thrust his hips wildly as he sucked on that spot. He wanted to leave a mark that wouldn’t fade for weeks, wanted to fuck him so raw he couldn’t walk, could barely move, and wanted to come hard and deep inside him, wanted to make Ardyn his and his alone.

It occurred to him that Ardyn was screaming into the pillow, and Cor shifted his head and bit down again and sucked another mark into the side of his neck, thumb pressed beneath his jaw, digging in, still fucking him and his cock was burning and aching from the pressure and the friction.

He felt Ardyn tensing beneath him, felt him trembling all over, still screaming as hard as he could with Cor choking him, and in that moment he felt such a thrilling surge of power and satisfaction, that he was seeing this man, this man who he’d hated so much, broken apart beneath him on the sheets, ravaged by his cock, and he closed his eyes and groaned aloud as he shoved himself in and came, jerking his hips, squeezing his neck harder, digging his fingers into his skin as he rode it out. There were stars behind his eyes, a surge like fire up his spine that left him gasping for breath, and Ardyn felt suddenly so much warmer beneath him, he could almost feel the heat and the static off his skin, like lightning, and it was so, so good.

As soon as it passed, he let go of his neck and collapsed on top of him, forehead pressed to the back of his neck, gasping for breath and still rolling their hips together, riding out the last of it. He groaned, long and loud, and pushed himself up on his elbows, panting against his skin. He couldn’t even think of words, couldn’t think of anything. Just that as soon as he’d caught his breath he wanted to pull out and hold the other man close and keep him there.

\--

Cor coming in him was just force and nature and exhaustion, and Ardyn trembled as the other man held him down and finished in him, coming hot in his sore, sore ass. He just kept Ardyn pinned, breathless and choking with a hand clenched around his bruised throat until his vision was black at the edges and he was on the verge of passing out again, whimpering and totally overwhelmed. It was a nice feeling.

He felt wrung-dry and ruined, his ass and thighs aching, his neck sore with bruises and the bite marks that would no doubt linger for weeks. Cor had finally let off the pressure on his neck and he was able to turn his head and gasp for shallow breaths of sex-humid air, closing his eyes as he curled his fingers in the sheets and Cor fucked him through both of their orgasms, leaving him totally overstimulated and shaking. He coughed a few times, to clear his throat, and smacked at the other man weakly with one arm as he pressed his face into the damp, totally tangled, hair at the back of Ardyn’s neck. “Get off,” he mumbled.

His voice was completely fucking shot, from screaming and choking, and it came out more a cracked whisper than anything else. “You’re too heavy.”

\--

Cor closed his eyes, face pressed into Ardyn’s damp hair as he panted and tried to reorient himself. The other man was trembling beneath him, coughing and gasping in breath as soon as he could turn his face away from the pillow.

When he started smacking at him and complaining, Cor muttered a tired, “Yeah,” and, as gently as he could, pulled out of him, wincing a little. It was going to hurt Ardyn more, he was sure. He’d be sore for days.

Once he’d successfully disentangled them, he let out a great sigh, moved over just enough to get off Ardyn’s back, and collapsed bodily onto the mattress next to him, chest still heaving. The bed was far too small for both of them, but he didn’t really want to move away anyway, and he turned onto his side and tucked up next to him. Normally after sex they just… parted ways or continued whatever they’d been doing before, and he was at a bit of a loss now that they were actually in a bed and about all he wanted to do was lay there. Head on the pillow, he watched the other man, waiting for… something. For Ardyn to tell him what to do, or get fed up and leave, or to touch him and give him some semblance of the affection he so craved.

\--

Cor pulled out of him, and the noise Ardyn made was one he would deny until his dying day, if he ever had one. It was a shattered whisper of a thing, all hoarse and ragged and rotten, broken in the back of his throat. It was pain, hot-bright and awful, sore and stiff and he could feel Cor’s come and his blood dripping down the crack of his ass and the insides of his thighs. It would probably stain the sheets black, but hopefully they would be long gone by then.

Cor finally got off of him, and he groaned, rolled forward slightly to push up onto his elbows, his hair falling in a messy curtain around his face. The back of his neck stung something fierce, and his thighs kept trembling. After a moment, he looked over at the other man and found those damn blue eyes staring back at him, all the brighter for being post-orgasm in the bad electric light of the camper, and Ardyn’s shoulders softened for a moment. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, stared into those bright eyes, tilted his head slightly.

“Has anyone ever told you,” his voice still came out raw and wrecked, a half-whisper, but he didn’t mind, “That you have the brightest eyes. Brightest I’ve ever seen.”

\--

Ardyn’s hair was a mess, though clean and still damp from the shower, between Cor pulling on it and Ardyn’s head being shoved against the pillow when it was still wet, it was hopelessly tangled all over again. But it was… endearing, in a way, and Cor smiled a little as he watched the other man try to get his bearings after being brutally fucked.

When their eyes met, he expected Ardyn to say something mean or make a joke or try to avoid any sort of emotional words whatsoever. Instead, he saw the man’s face soften a little, and Ardyn pressed their foreheads together. Cor let out a slow, surprised breath, but he leaned towards him, tucked himself up against him a little bit more.

Ardyn’s voice was hoarse and wrecked and beautiful for it, and Cor felt himself melt at the words. He was at a loss. After struggling for a moment, he said, quietly, and carefully, “No. No one ever has.”

He’d been with men, in his younger years, who admired him. Men he got along with well enough. But when he grew a little older, duty had always taken precedence over any sort of relationship. For a long time, he’d never even considered it. For too many years, his dedication to the King had left him pining for Regis’s attention, but Regis had Clarus, and that would never change, and Cor never said a word about the way he felt. It wasn’t proper, anyway.

Ardyn was… different. Cor had hated him. Tried to kill him. Missed him. Fucked him. Ardyn had given him the attention he craved, and wanted him out of mutual desire, despite their differences. He’d treated him like a man, wasn’t afraid to get close to him instead of keeping his distance out of respect, like everyone else. Cor had had so many sleepless nights over him, kicking himself for wanting him at all. And he knew he was lost already, he knew Ardyn had him twisted around his finger, knew it and couldn’t help it. Those words, though, sunk deeper into him than anything else, wrapped right around his heart and he, belatedly, found himself flushing, not just from the earlier exertion.

“Ardyn,” he muttered, watching the other man’s wide, exhausted eyes, beautiful brown and red tones swirling together. “Please. Let me stay here for a little while.”

\--

Cor watched him with a look on his face that made Ardyn wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have said that. The other man looked—stupefied. And then flushed, awkward and nonplussed as a teenager would be, unprepared for Ardyn’s affection.

Gods damn the man, Cor was growing on him something fierce and awful, and he just smiled soft for a moment down at him, surprisingly touched. “Be careful, Marshal,” he warned. “Can’t grow too fond of the snake in your bed.” He had a feeling it was far too late for the other man, and it had been so long since someone had looked at him just as himself that he couldn’t find it in him to do away with it. He’d missed just being _Ardyn_ , and nothing else.

He shifted, combing still-weak fingers through his hair, and rolled to sit up with a hiss, his ass even more sore than he’d been expecting. He needed to clean up, and to find his underwear. “But, as for staying, you did pay for the camper.” He’d been too soft for too long, and his smile was all teeth and sharp edges again. If Cor came too close, he would bite. “I think you’re entitled to stay as long as you’d like.” A pause. “In your _own_ bunk, however. In the meantime, I’m going to go clean up.”

\--

Cor sighed and closed his eyes, pressed against him gently for just that moment. He frowned at the warning, but said nothing of it.

Too soon, it passed, and Ardyn sat up, hissing in pain. Cor rolled onto his back, folding his hands across his chest as he watched him, and let out a quiet sigh when the other man grinned at him. He didn’t know what he’d expected.

“Fine.” He grunted. There wasn’t enough room for both of them in one bed anyway without it being unnecessarily cramped. And of course Ardyn was going to claim the bed already warmed by the both of them, even if it was also a mess now.

Sitting up, he looked down at himself, all covered in sweat and dirt from the road and… was that blood on his dick? He squinted, paled, and looked over at Ardyn. Had he really fucked him _that_ hard? Though he doubted Ardyn cared.

Cor rubbed at the corners of his eyes and the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to take a nap,” he said. Really, he just wanted to stay out of the other man’s way as much as possible for the time being. Hauling himself out of bed, he climbed, still naked, up to the top bunk and collapsed there on the sheets, lazily staring down across the camper. He was tired, anyway. He didn’t mind sleeping under the stars but nothing could beat sleeping in a bed, even one that wasn’t all that comfortable.

\--

Cor took Ardyn’s dismissal as what it was, and he shifted out of the bed properly and limped into the bathroom, hissing with every step and the pull on his ass and his torn inner walls made itself far more vocal than it had been while he was sitting. Back in the tiny ensuite, hot water and the cleaner parts of his ruined shirt made for good cloth to wipe up, and he swiped down between his thighs and the base of his stomach before he had to bite back anything louder as he slid his fingers up into his hole, scraping out come and blood, still glamoured red, and washing his shaky hands afterward. It didn’t seem like any sort of a major injury, but it would take some time to heal.

Ardyn had never been entirely sure what potions would do to him, and the more he used his magic the worse he always felt, so he avoided both. He would just bear the marks Cor had left him until they vanished.

He wanted to, though. He wanted to feel like he’d absolved even a single sin.

Putting his underwear back on, Ardyn limped back out into the camper proper and leaned his arms over the edge of the top bunk, elbows folded, letting it take the weight his shaky legs didn’t seem to want to hold. “Cor,” Ardyn said, quietly.

He looked like he was sulking, naked and staring at the ceiling as if he was questioning why he was still there. Ardyn could wait until he felt like acknowledging the maroon behemoth in the room.

\--

Cor closed his eyes, listening to Ardyn shuffle about, and the water running in the bathroom as he cleaned himself up. It should have felt more comfortable than it did, having someone else there. He was too used to being alone, and he and Ardyn still weren’t exactly what he would call friendly with each other. Funny, that every time he had a moment to himself to think he had the urge to run and the logical thought that he really shouldn’t be there, it was so much better for him on his own, and the best thing he could do would be to wash his hands of the whole mess and never look back.

But then, every time he looked at Ardyn, every time he stared into those gorgeous eyes and thought of that small, soft smile the other man had given him, just for him, when he thought about the rare, gentle touches and the way he looked when he came against the sheets, he just… lost all sense of logic. He was in so deep he was drowning and when they were together, he didn’t even mind.

When Ardyn came back out and leaned his arms over the edge of the bed and said his name, gently, quietly, he felt himself lose it all over again. Gods, he was lost, he was so lost, but he was also frustrated and irritated and determined to sulk on his bunk, so he didn’t look at him.

He waited a long moment to see if the other man would give up and leave, and when he didn’t, turned to glare at him. “What?”

\--

Cor apparently had settled on the silent treatment, like if he ignored Ardyn long enough he would go away. Ardyn had all the patience of the lifetime of the world; he could wait. He _would_ wait. Finally the other man cracked and rolled over to glare at him, frustrated and unhappy as he snapped his question.

Ardyn reached out and straightened the Marshal’s hair before he slept on it the wrong way, tried to soothe the tension off of his tight forehead and smiled again (his real smile, soft and cunning like a fox on the hunt and open as a pit above a trap but not sharp as knives and with blood between the teeth). “If you glare like that, your face will get stuck that way, and if you sleep naked, you’ll catch cold.” He squeezed Cor’s shoulder. “Thank you for that. It’s been a time longer than you could imagine since I’ve been...myself.” He felt remarkably coherent now, too, the dark-edged madness that filled his waking thoughts quieted and cowed by the force of their sex.

“Get some rest,” he settled on after a moment longer, not wanting to let it linger, and then he tossed the remains of his shirt on Cor’s lap. “And wipe up.” He had mercifully been fucked on his towel, so the lower bunk was clean, and all he had to do was toss that back in the bathroom before he collapsed boneless into the bottom bunk, stretched to settle in, and dragged the blankets up to his chin.

\--

Ardyn reached out and stroked his hair, straightening it, and Cor, despite his attempts at staying angry and irritated, relaxed a little into it, closing his eyes partway. The other man was smiling at him again, softly, like he had before, chiding him gently, and Cor sighed. Ardyn thanked him, genuinely, and he didn’t even know what to say. The other man kept surprising him like that, and he found his tongue tied and his chest tight. He wanted to stay there, in that moment, with Ardyn touching his hair and his face and his shoulder, gently, like he really cared.

He took the torn up shirt the other man tossed to him, waited until Ardyn had settled back down on the lower bunk, and wiped off the sweat on his chest and around his neck and his dick. When he was done, he tossed it to the bottom of the bed, and slipped under the blankets.

“Ardyn,” he called down a moment later. “Thank you, too.” It was what he needed, after all that time alone. Just… someone who wanted him for who he was.

\--

The last thing that Ardyn heard before he fell into a fitful slumber, one he didn’t even really need, was Cor thanking him from above him on the bunk. They just lay there in silence until Cor’s even, deep breathing told Ardyn he was asleep.

After that, Ardyn dozed for a time. The night was always the hardest for him, too much crying out too far and wide in the world. Even after his fall, he’d still healed everyone he possibly could, but it had only damaged him more. Taking their curse into him cursed him more, took away more of who he still was able to cling to of who he was. So he had stopped.

He never slept well when he heard them calling, in anguish, for the King of Light to heal them.

It was before false dawn when he rolled out of bed, disoriented and tired and still stiff with blood drying into scabs on the back of his neck. Ardyn dressed in silence, without waking Cor. He ran into a problem with not having a shirt, since his was ruined and would be going in the garbage, but he dealt with it by stealing one of the Marshal’s instead. It was too short and cut too low, but it would work, and Ardyn dusted a kiss over the sleeping man’s brow before he slipped into the seams of time, and back to work, leaving the Marshal taking his well-needed rest without his guardian monster.

\--

Cor slept surprisingly well, exhausted and sated and comfortable enough on the bunk bed, tangled in the sheets. Sometime in the early morning, he half woke up to the gentle touch of lips on his forehead, grumbled quietly and rolled over, passing out again almost immediately. A few hours later, he opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. It wasn’t even a question as to whether Ardyn had already left. He would have been more surprised if the other man had actually waited there for him.

When he climbed out of bed, Ardyn was, indeed, nowhere to be found, and Cor took his time showering and collecting his clothes off the floor where he’d thrown them hastily the previous night. He got his underwear on, and his trousers, and his boots, and his body armour, and tossed Ardyn’s torn up shirt into the garbage, but he couldn’t find his own outer shirt anywhere.

Running his fingers back through his short hair, he sighed, exasperated. “He took my damn shirt,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He had a few changes of clothes, but they were back in Lestallum, left with one of his hunter friends at the inn. He’d only taken what he was wearing out to the wilderness for the hunt.

He threw his uniform jacket on over his body armour, collected the rest of his things, filled the gas tank of his motorcycle, and left. When he showed up in Lestallum without a shirt on, he’d have to blame the monsters tearing it up. No one would believe him if he told them what really happened, anyway.


	4. don't threaten me with a good time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just shut up and kiss me,” Ardyn snarled back, dragging Cor up off of the sheets by the back of his neck. “Just don’t make me think. Make me human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [panic! at the disco's "don't threaten me with a good time"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5NqIsnyTG8)

From the moment Ardyn touched down at the rather bedraggled imperial base that Noctis and co. had swept through two days before, he had known he was going to have a hell of a mess to clean up. Caligo had been spitting fire the whole time that Ardyn had been negotiating his release from the hunters, screaming his bloody head off, and the hunters seemed all-too-happy to be free of the bluff and bluster.

Aranea was blessedly done with his shit as always, and he liked that about her.

When the worst of the muddle had been sorted out, drop ships filled with ruined MTs gathered to ship back to Gralea to return with new forces, Ardyn swept off his hat and started walking from the fort over to the small outpost that waited on the other side of the bridge. Even with the wind up off of the river below, it was hot, and he waved his hat like a fan to cool his face off. No doubt the actual perpetrators were still somewhere nearby, but he wasn’t going to hunt them down. Yelling at the Prince and his entourage would get them nowhere.

As it was, the adults involved would have to deal with the very real political ramifications of this. Lucis was technically a part of the Empire now, and this kind of guerrilla warfare was the sort of thing that could lead to, at the minimum, arrests. At worst, some serious martial law. That would have been _very_ counter to his plans, so Ardyn needed to go straight to the source, as it were. He arrived at the diner in the little stopover, a Crow’s Nest, and kindly requested that they call in the head Hunter in those parts. He had a job he wouldn’t trust to anyone else.

And then, with a surprisingly edible sandwich and Justice Monsters Five, Ardyn settled in to wait for Cor’s arrival, his hat hung off of the edge of the arcade table while he crouched on the wall, feet crammed against the table itself. It was amazing what humans were always coming up with.

\--

Cor had hoped to return to Lestallum to rest in peace and quiet for a few days. Instead, he was met by a distraught Iris and Talcott and the news of Jared’s death, after the empire scoured the city looking for Noctis. There wasn’t much more he could do than comfort them. Talcott would be taken to Caem, and Iris would accompany Noctis and his friends there when she met up with them as well.

Cor had no plans on heading in that direction just yet, nor did he particularly want to see the Prince-now-King. He adored the boy, of course. Noctis was like a nephew to him, but… Cor had not exactly been in the best mindset lately, and the Prince had his own issues to work through without having to deal with him.

Instead, he stocked up on potions and other supplies and headed back out into the wilderness for a little while. Noctis could take care of himself anyway, he believed that. And he had his friends to support him. He had no doubt that the four of them and Iris would successfully make their way to Caem. Before he left, Iris made him promise he would be there to see Noctis off when he left for Altissia and… he agreed. That, he felt, was the least he could do to make up for his numerous failures.

Out in the wilds, he didn’t do all that much other than wander about and camp and hunt, a little. When he got a call after a few days from one of the men running a nearby diner, he decided hunting down a stronger daemon was just the kind of stress relief he needed. He didn’t question the source of the call in the least, many of the hunters had his number, and plenty of the local tipsters did as well. He’d made himself known in that circuit.

Pulling up outside when he arrived, he parked his bike and headed in, straight for the counter. He’d been to that particular station before, and the man running the place waved, nodded to him, and pointed towards the corner. “That fellow there has all the info,” the man said. “Says he wanted to give it to you personally.”

Cor looked in the direction he pointed. And there was Ardyn, eating a sandwich, playing Justice Monsters Five, like he did it every day.

Cor walked over and stood beside the other man, staring at the screen, then down at him. “You have the most creative ways of getting my attention.”

\--

The sound of Cor’s motorcycle was one that Ardyn was by now very well acquainted with. It took almost an hour for the man to arrive, no doubt from wherever he’d been parked in the woods, and when he came into the diner with his distinctive lock-step, Ardyn crammed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and focused on finishing his game.

Cor came over and leaned over his shoulder to stare at what he was doing and for a long moment he was quiet before he spoke. Ardyn muffled a giggle in his mouthful of food, and then paused as the next level loaded to flip his hat onto Cor’s head. He swallowed, and then spoke without looking up from what he as doing. “Go walk across that bridge, and then come back over here and tell me what you see.”

\--

There was a quiet, muffled laugh from Ardyn, and Cor smiled, gently touching his shoulder for a moment as the other man flipped his hat onto his head. Cor put a hand on it, adjusting it so it sat just right on his head. On a few other occasions, now, when Ardyn had done the same, Cor had angrily shoved it back at him but after their night in the camper together, well… it was more endearing than he wanted to admit, an almost affectionate gesture, and he didn’t mind that so much at all.

He glanced out the window and shrugged. “All right,” he said, kept the hat, and stepped out of the diner. He didn’t have to go far to catch on to what Ardyn was talking about. There was an imperial garrison on the other side of the bridge, smoking something awful from behind its outermost walls, no sign at all of the usual red beacon that signalled its power source. Narrowing his eyes, he tipped up the brim of the hat, frowned, and made his way back into the diner and over to Ardyn.

The smile gone from his face, he pulled the hat off and passed it back to its owner. “We should talk about this somewhere more private.” There were people in the diner, people who knew him, and people who would know who Ardyn was if he said too much.

\--

Ardyn didn’t have long to wait; Cor wasn’t gone for more than five minutes. When he came back, there was a palpable air of dissatisfaction about the other man, and the mood around him had dropped in temperature. He was frowning as he came and set Ardyn’s hat back on his head. “My thoughts exactly,” he replied. “But I have a game to finish. I reserved a room at the motel across the way, you’re welcome to wait for me there.”

\--

Cor sighed at him and shook his head, tipping down the brim of his hat a little, over his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.” Leaving the diner, he grabbed his pack off his motorcycle just in case, crossed the street and asked at the motel desk for the room reserved under, of course, only the name Ardyn, got the keys, and headed upstairs to open up the room.

It was small but cozy, nothing remarkable, just a typical hotel room. There was one large bed and a few leather chairs and a table. Cor set his pack down, though he doubted the intention was for them to actually stay there. But since they had the room anyway, he figured he might as well take advantage of it and at least shower when they were done.

Pulling off his boots, he set them aside and pulled up one of the chairs so he could put his feet up on the bed at the same time, leaning back and getting comfortable. Better to get as comfortable as he could. He didn’t like the fact that Ardyn had called him out there to talk about what looked like a recently destroyed imperial stronghold. It was easy to pinpoint who was responsible for that. Cor had accompanied Noctis on invading another, what felt like months ago now, to show him into the tomb, and he could only guess at what Ardyn had to say to him about it. It wasn’t going to be nice, he was sure.

\--

He took his winnings, which amounted to a couple of Mega-Elixers, and crossed the street, waving jauntily to the man running the front desk as he climbed the stairs to the room he had rented. Once he was inside, Ardyn shut and then locked the door before tossing his winnings over to land on Cor’s lap. “Those are for you. I have no use for them. Got a new high score on the machines.” Never say he didn’t have his priorities straight.

Ignoring where Cor had gotten comfortable, Ardyn came over and graciously sprawled across the bed, his shoes still on, hat rucked forward to shade his face. Steepled his fingers. For a long moment he didn’t speak, just watched Cor—he’d taken his boots off, and even though he was ostensibly relaxing, there was an iron edge to his whole body. He never quite turned off.

“Marshal Leonis,” Ardyn finally began, spreading his hands atop his lap. “I believe that you might be able to see a trace of the problem we are facing. The uncrowned and still-reported-dead future King of Lucis and his three royal retainers broke into an Imperial outpost, kidnapped the commander, destroyed almost the entire garrison of MT and MA, totalling well into the six digits of damages. They fought one of my best captains to a standstill, and drove away in the daylight no worse for wear while the ground they’d salted burned behind them.”

Ardyn sighed, put-upon.

“You can see the _delicate_ situation that this puts the Lucian home guard in. I’ve no doubt when I report it to the Emperor that he will want something done; I for one don’t like the idea of leaving civilians defenceless to the daemons by stopping Hunter and Crownsguard activities. You,” he looked up then, pinned Cor with his eyes, “Are the highest ranking remaining official in the entirety of the Lucian government system, Marshal. Aside from the wayward heir to the throne, anyway. As such, I would like your input on the matter.”

\--

Cor looked up when he heard Ardyn at the door, blinking, surprised, at the elixers tossed into his lap, and carefully set them aside on the table. He pulled his feet off the bed, set them on the floor and folded his hands across his stomach while Ardyn sprawled onto the mattress, shoes still on, hat tilted forward. The other man was watching him and Cor watched him right back, waiting.

He didn’t like the way the man used his full title. It sent an uncomfortable tingling down his spine. Ardyn spoke so quickly and precisely as he went over the situation, that Cor found himself a little blindsided, his heart pounding in his chest and not from arousal this time. It was some sort of uncomfortable nervousness, a situation he didn’t want to deal with, the sort he’d hoped would not arise, something to tug on his loyalty to Noctis and Lucis and his growing fondness for Ardyn, and the fact that he was on the very verge of casting down his title of Marshal and having nothing more to do with it.

It had occurred to him that he was one of the remaining few and certainly the oldest, and most experienced, of the Lucian officials, and he wasn’t used to having to deal with this sort of matter on his own. Too much of him didn’t want that sort of responsibility, either, not with the way things were. But this did give him a nice chance to ask some of his own questions.

“My input?” he said, frowning. “You can’t take a country by force and not expect it’s rightful ruler and it’s people to try to fight back. What he did to your base is nothing compared to what Niflheim did to our city. The damages are pocket change by comparison. As if the destruction of one base is going to cripple your entire empire. And in addition, Chancellor…” He tilted his head. “I understand that only a few days prior, there were soldiers in the streets of Lestallum searching for the our young Prince. I understand that they questioned and killed one of the few surviving royal retainers, a man named Jared. I don’t suppose you have anything to say about that.”

\--

“Yes.” Ardyn arched his eyebrows. “Surely you can’t be unused to such questions? Unless King Regis really _was_ really not taking you at your full value.” He paused at Cor’s point, and then giggled. “I’m certainly not denying that it is an eye for an eye, and one well-deserved.”

His good humour evaporated a moment after, though, when Cor told of what had happened in Lestallum. His brow furrowed, and Ardyn rolled off of the bed, stood and walked to the window over the back hills behind Old Lestallum, hand pressed to his chin in thought. “No...I had not known about it until you just told me.”

This was why he appreciated MTs so much. Even back before, he could never have been sure of the motives and motivations of humans. They were greedy, and could fail you. MTs at least were not liable to do things you were totally unprepared for. He couldn’t say he was entirely _disappointed_ with such an outcome and the guilt it would no doubt place upon Noctis’ shoulders, but he was only glad it hadn’t gotten more out of hand than a single death. “No doubt, that was the very garrison commander they attempted to kidnap in their attack here, which explains a great deal.”

Ardyn turned back around, and spread his arms in a shrug. “Cor, when you took them through that new-built garrison, we were still two nations at war. Whether either of us like it or not, Niflheim has conquered Lucis, and the latter is now a territory. I firmly believe in the right of all of your people to stand up for their homes, whether it be peaceably or not. What I _am_ worried about is the top brass in Gralea insisting that the army be out for their blood. Ravus Nox Fleuret is not a kind commander, and one _certainly_ not predisposed with any affection for Noctis, and fighting fire with fire at this juncture would only see Lucis burnt to the ground. Why did you think I have remained here these last few months? I want to see Lucis prosper as much as does anyone.”

\--

Cor sat up a little, narrowing his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he believed, at first, that Ardyn didn’t know about Jared but then… one death probably seemed to be of little consequence to the soldiers present. They likely hadn’t thought it was a worthy enough detail to report. But he, too, was certain that was what had driven Noctis to attack the fort and attempt to kidnap the commander. After seeing Talcott and Iris… how could he not want revenge, for their sakes, especially knowing it was him the soldiers were looking for?

“I know that,” he growled. Lucis did belong to Niflheim now, technically; he couldn’t deny that fact. But he, and so many others, believed so strongly that Noctis would reclaim their kingdom. He couldn’t deny that, either.

“So?” he asked. “What do you expect me to do? I haven’t spoken with Noctis in weeks. What he did was his own decision, not mine. And if I were in his shoes, I would have done the same. It’s not as if all of Niflheim doesn’t want him dead anyway, why not fight back? Why not show the empire that we won’t just lie down and take this? I want to see Lucis prosper, too, but I want to see it prosper under its rightful King, a King who will care about the land and its people and not just lust for more power.”

\--

“I don’t expect _you_ to do anything. I expect that, as you remain Marshal of the Crownsguard and one of the de-facto leaders of the Hunters, for you to be able to vouch to keep those dangerous men and women in check so that I don’t get handed an order to put a dropship at every settlement and let the MTs deal with the daemons.” Which is what he _would_ have said, the words that _would_ have come out of his mouth, if Cor hadn’t kept talking, running over him being reasonable, with a statement that for a long moment made Ardyn just see red.

_I want to see Lucis prosper, too, but I want to see it prosper under its rightful King, a King who will care about the land and its people and not just lust for more power._

Ardyn very carefully took in a long, slow breath. Bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted the tang of his black, curst blood. He slowly breathed back out, body trembling with rage. Absolute, suffused rage. _How dare you say that to me_ , he wanted to snarl, wanted to drag Cor from his chair and shake him by the collar. _How dare you stare at me with His eyes and say that to me_. _How dare you stand where He stood and say that to me_.

He didn’t say any of that, of course. He plastered on that smile he’d learned to wear best in his long life, all teeth and lies, and let the tension drip like poison from his spread fingertips. “Of course. And all that I can do for Noctis is be a guiding light along his way for when the time comes for him to take the throne.” He felt violently ill even thinking about it; the nausea burned the back of his throat and made his chest tight. “I meant in the _meantime_ , Cor. I meant before he joins his lovely bride-to-be in Altissia, and returns to take the throne. It will be some weeks yet at least, and keeping even a temporary peace will go a long way to allowing an even transition of power back to the—”

He tried to say the words. He really did. He tried to say _to the rightful Kings_. He tried to force his mouth to make the words that would have given Izunia’s long-gone ghost some kind of resolution, but he couldn’t. Not even when Noctis was, really, as good a boy as he could hope to have against him, and like as not to end the day as badly fucked as Ardyn himself was.

“King.”

\--

Ardyn didn’t say anything for a long moment. Cor could feel the tension, palpable in the air between them. He could hear his heart racing in his ears, and sat back in his chair, all the wind suddenly gone out of him. That was more than he’d ever said on the matter since the city fell. More than he’d said since he lost… everything. Since he lost his home.

He could feel the rift between them, the differences he’d tried so hard to ignore the past few weeks, pushing all those thoughts aside because Ardyn had started to make him feel like himself again. And he could have been quiet and reasonable about it but of course, he had to open his mouth and go on a tirade, and he didn’t even feel any better for it at all. Just worn out and frustrated.

Ardyn was all business and poison and anger, he could see it in his eyes when he looked at him, so he looked away. “Right,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “Of course. Of course. I… know that.” Still, there was something horribly off. He could hear it in the other man’s voice, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Something he’d said had made Ardyn more tense than he’d ever seen him, and he had no idea what. Any other official he might have expected it from, but Ardyn had never exactly seemed all that dedicated to Niflheim, given his tendencies. Unless it was all a very deep, extended lie meant to manipulate him or… something, but he had no idea what the point of that would be. He was practically useless now. All he did was hunt and advise Noctis when he could, which was hardly ever these days. He didn’t want to believe that, anyway. He wanted to believe that Ardyn was fucking him, and starting to spend time with him because he wanted to.

“Then,” he said, slowly and more carefully than before. “We want the same thing. When I see Noctis again, I can have a word with him. If… that was all you wanted.”

\--

What he _wanted_ was out of that room ten minutes ago, and the only thing that kept him from freezing time was that Cor would notice, even though he needed to _breathe_. He could remain in his ill-fitting second skin for a few minutes more, certainly.

“I had never intended to ask you to do any such thing,” Ardyn replied at last, his voice as empty of emotion as he could make it. “I was merely going to ask you to keep the peace among the Hunters and Crownsguard, and if it looked like a riot was about to happen, to try and keep it from happening. _Keep the peace_ , Cor. That was all I was going to ask you to do. We don’t have long to wait now.” More than he knew. The lies were palpable on his lips.

Ardyn forced his smile to soften, to be as gentle as the one that Cor had won from him that night only a week before. He knew it was a pale facsimile, but it was the closest he could get. “Would you be able to do that for me? Astrals know, Lucis has enough problems with Daemons right now than to have MT soldiers marching around her lovely countryside.”

\--

Cor watched the other man, carefully, as though staring at him long enough would let him in, would help him understand what he was thinking, why there was so much uncharacteristic tension in his shoulders, why it suddenly felt like there were leagues and leagues between them when he’d just started to feel like they were growing closer.

He let him talk, met his eyes, relaxed a little at his smile. “Ardyn,” he said, quietly, after a moment, letting out another slow, relieved sigh. “Of course I would. If that was all you had to ask, you could have just said it. I…” He pressed his finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, squeezing and closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I… overreacted. I just…” he let his hand down and stared at his open palm. “I know you won’t understand, or care, but to have lost everything and not have anyone to talk to about it… it’s… hard.” Admittedly, he barely knew anything about the man. It was an assumption, that he didn’t know the same sort of pain, although an educated one, considering his current position. But he didn’t want Ardyn to pity him, either. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

“I didn’t need to take that out on you, if… you feel like I did. You’re right. I will keep the peace. I know that’s for the best. As much as I can.”

\--

It was only the thinnest threads of his self control that kept Ardyn from throwing his head back and laughing until he was sore. _Didn’t know_? Oh, Cor; the poor lad, the poor boy. He had no idea. He only wished—

“It’s all right,” Ardyn said instead, keeping his trap shut. He walked over and set a hand on Cor’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I had no idea about Jared. I couldn’t have.” He grimaced. “As I was still in a ditch at that time. I will be having words with the garrison commander about that incident. It is too little too late, I know, but it was inappropriate. We come not to conquer, whatever people would rather believe.” He let go of Cor and stepped back.

He needed. Space.

“Feel free to make use of the room,” Ardyn gestured expansively, and regained his hat before he bowed, once, graciously. “If you leave before I return, may your travels go well.”

\--

Cor just breathed. He felt awful for more than one reason, his chest tight, his shoulders still tense. Even Ardyn’s hand on his shoulder, as reassuring as he may have meant that to be, didn’t help. “It’s all right,” he said, repeating the other man’s own words. It was true. Ardyn had been with him around the time it would have happened. But Ardyn may not have been able to control it or stop it, anyway. It wasn’t an order he’d given, that was all that mattered. It was in the past, anyway. Nothing they did would bring Jared back.

He said nothing as Ardyn offered for him to use the room, bowed and left. For a long time, he sat there, gripping the arms of the chair, staring at the wall. He wanted to drink and forget, but that would get him nowhere. He wanted to hunt, but rushing out into the wilderness after sunset without a team or a plan or a target would only get him killed for his recklessness.

So, he did the next best thing he could think of. He forced himself up and took a long, cold shower. That, at the least, helped clear his head. When he was done, he pulled his trousers back on and sat on the edge of the bed, holding his uniform jacket in his hands. It was the mark of the Crownsguard. Armor befitting a Marshal. But what of a Marshal who rejected his title? A Marshal who just wanted to rest?

He had one more duty, and that was to see Noctis off to Altissia. And once that was done, well… he would have to wait and see how it all panned out before he made any hasty decisions. That was the best thing to do. But in the meantime, he cast it aside, tossing it over the arm of one chair, and tucked himself under the blankets to think and, when he felt tired enough, to nap.

\--

The first thing Ardyn did was storm back over to the garrison and practically flay the skin off of all the human officers left there. They were to at least keep an _illusion_ of the peace; Ardyn didn’t need Noctis getting himself killed fighting some MT and thereby damning him to another two thousand years of restless fury. It was hard enough already keeping the boy-King from killing himself on daemons, car accidents, Astrals, and gods-only-knew _what_ else.

Afterward, frustrated, Ardyn told them to have the place in some form of order before he left the following afternoon so he could at least give a final inspection, and then he went back to Old Lestallum. There, he was just a strange wanderer with a beat-up car. He wasn’t—

Well, that was the question, really. What _was_ he? What he _was_ was waiting for Noctis to gather the Armiger, one single sword or axe at a time, ghosts of men past whom Ardyn had knew, many of whom he had met and talked with in days ages gone. He had to go to Caem, still the harbour long after Ardyn’s own boats there had rotted to dust and flotsam, and then Altissia, and then—

He just went and sat on the Motel roof for a long time, playing with his hat between his knees. Noctis’ journey was, in so many ways, so much like his own had been, lifetimes ago. Oh, with a car and guns and electric lights, with potions rather than healing spells, with airships and magitek. But it was still his close friends, it was still for the fate of the world and for the coming Night of Stars. It felt like a terrible source of pleasure, to rip that away from him.

But time couldn’t stop forever.

Not even for him, thank the Astrals, they had at least thought to leave him that much.

Eventually, when he was done sulking like a child and the sun had set, Ardyn went down and back to the room he had rented. He’d only gotten one bed, perhaps out of misplaced hope, and Cor had apparently decided to stay, still smelling damp after a shower and tucked under the sheets, asleep. Ardyn shut the door behind him, carefully removed his boots, hung his hat off of the top of a chair, and stripped as he walked over to the bedside so that when he sat down on the edge of the mattress, he was in only his shirt and trousers, toes curling into the floor through his socks.

He wanted something.

Something that was almost definitely a bad idea.

But really, at that point—could it possibly hurt him any more?

\--

Cor had always been a light sleeper. He had to be, as Marshal of the Crownsguard, and even before that. He’d so often been on late night guard duty, where he’d slip into a half-sleep leaning against some wall, but even the slightest of movements had to wake him up, just in case. Over the years he’d grown better at sleeping deeply, and when he knew he was safe, at ignoring the sounds around him and passing out again after waking up.

But, when he felt weight on the bed, in a room where he’d previously been alone, he came back to vague consciousness. He grunted, opening his eyes just enough to confirm that it was him, and closed them again. “Ardyn,” he muttered, voice deep and grating from sleep. “You came back. Didn’t think you would.”

\--

Cor woke at his weight, turning his head and opening one eye just enough to confirm it was Ardyn. Half-asleep his voice was rough and deeper than it usually was, a coarse whisper on top of smooth coffee. Ardyn took his acceptance of his presence as invitation enough, and rolled the other man flat on the bed and then climbed on to straddle his lap, hands pressed to either side of his neck. It was still just after sunset, and the orange and reds spilling over the horizon through the shades cast a warm glow into the room.

“Do you trust me?” He asked. It wasn’t what he wanted to ask. What he wanted to ask was _if you knew I was your rightful King, would you follow me into death the way you would Regis_? What he wanted to ask was _when you know what I am, will you do as Noctis will_? But he couldn’t ask either of those questions; couldn’t voice the words. He was a monster but he was a _lonely_ monster, so terribly lonely. And he wanted to be selfish.

So Ardyn rolled forward and kissed Cor.

\--

Ardyn moved over him, and Cor opened his eyes to watch him as the other man rolled him flat and straddled his lap, pinning him down. He had no idea how long he’d slept but it couldn’t have been more than an hour or two. It was only just sunset now, and all the orange light spilling into the room made Ardyn’s hair glow brilliantly.

He found himself saying, “Yes,” to that question before he even thought it through entirely. But the truth was… he did. He did trust Ardyn, even if there were too many nights where he felt it was a foolish, misplaced trust. But when they were like this, and they spoke frankly, and he could see the honesty in his eyes, and he knew the other man must be just as lonely as he was, if not more… yes. He did trust Ardyn, more than anything.

Reaching up, he tangled his fingers more gently into the other man’s hair than he ever had, pulled him deeper into his mouth when Ardyn kissed him, then tightened his grip, just a little. He moved his other hand out from under the blankets, too, slid his fingers up underneath the edge of the other man’s shirt and pressed his palm against his skin. “Tell me what you want from me,” he muttered, nipping gently at his lower lip, “And you’ll have it.”

\--

Cor’s breathy response made something light on fire in the pit of Ardyn’s stomach, and he leaned closer, let the other man tangle fingers into his thick hair, drag him into another kiss. Cor’s mouth was sticky and damp with sleep, but he didn’t even care. Hot fingers under his shirt on the skin of his stomach, and Cor was going to topple all his plans it felt like, stop him from seeing it through, but if Noctis could ignore being the King of Light to help people with their errands and learn to fish then—

Then he could do this.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he snarled back, dragging Cor up off of the sheets by the back of his neck. “Just don’t make me think. Make me human.”

\--

Ardyn dragged him up by the back of his neck, snarled to him and Cor suddenly felt wide awake again, his skin on fire and he shoved the blankets out from between them so he could get him closer, dragged Ardyn against his mouth by his hair and kissed him, long and hard and as deep as he could, biting at his tongue, drinking all of him in.

He got his fingers beneath the waistline of his pants and bent his knees up a little, dragging their hips together and rocking up against him so that Ardyn could feel the line of his hardening cock against his ass. Cor was still wearing his trousers, too, but he’d get them off soon enough. First was Ardyn’s shirt, and he grabbed it and dragged it up over the other man’s chest. Honestly the fact that he hadn’t yet had to fumble through taking off every ridiculous piece of clothing Ardyn normally wore was a blessing. This, he could deal with. That mess of coat and scarves, he wasn’t so sure.

\--

Cor struggled to get out from under the blankets and up against him, the hot skin of the other man’s bare chest warm with sleep under Ardyn’s fingers. He shuddered hard down against the other man and his half-hard cock as Cor bit at his tongue, and dragged his nails down Cor’s chest over the hair there to grab at the top of his slacks as well, pulling them away from his skin and fumbling to get the fly open. Cor managed his shirt all right, and Ardyn tossed it off the side of the bed. When Cor tried to roll up against him, though, Ardyn shoved him back down onto the bed and sat up just enough that he could drag Cor’s pants down to his knees, trapping his legs below that, his half-hard cock springing free. Without preamble, he grabbed it around the base and stroked, once, hard, from base to tip. “You hate Niflheim.”

\--

Ardyn shuddered beautifully against him, nails dragging down his muscled chest, fingertips hooking over the top of his trousers. Cor leaned up to kiss him more as Ardyn undid his fly, pulled his shirt off the rest of the way. Then the other man forced him down onto the bed as he dragged his trousers down to his knees, and Cor felt a sudden surge of dizzying arousal.

His breath was already coming hard and he panted more as he looked up at the man above him, only growing harder at the fact that, clearly, Ardyn intended to remain where he was, in his lap, and Cor had never wanted so desperately for a man to shove him down and use his cock however he pleased.

Warm fingers wrapped around the base of his dick, stroking once and Cor let out a choked up groan at the roughness of it, trying to arch into his hand. “Yes,” he got out, staring at Ardyn and how bright his eyes were, how intense and gorgeous he was, thick hair framing his face, lips parted, and Cor tangled his fingers harder into his hair, pulled on it, but didn’t drag him back down yet, just watched him.

\--

Cor choked out his answer, pulled harder on his hair, as Ardyn kept stroking just the base of his cock to feel it throb in the palm of his hand, twitching against his fingers. As he did it, he used his free hand to struggle to get his trousers off, having to awkwardly shift to do it. But he got it, at least, got one leg free and then managed to shake the other off so that he was naked over Cor, the other man’s legs still tangled up in his clothes, his tan skin slick with sweat and glowing in the sunset light. “You hate me.” he continued, breathless, as he spat on the fingers of his other hand and started with one finger, his entrance still a little sore from the last time that Cor had fucked him to bleeding.

\--

Cor panted, pulled on Ardyn’s hair, gasping quietly under his breath as the other man stroked the base of his cock. It was growing helplessly harder under his touch. While Ardyn got his trousers off, Cor let go of his hair, grabbed at the sheets instead, curling his fingers into them, until at _last_ the other man was naked above him, and when he settled back down, Cor could feel the warmth of his skin against his thighs.

“No,” he gasped, shaking his head at the accusation, softening as he watched the other man spit on his fingers and start to prepare himself. Cor shuddered against the sheets, cock growing harder at the sight. “No, I…” Used to hate him, yes. Now, it was… complicated. Though it wasn’t hate, he was hesitant to call it love. It wasn’t. It was… something else. “I don’t hate you.”

\--

Cor’s cock jumped hopefully under his fingers, the tip dripping pearly as Ardyn twisted his first finger in, and then spat again on his hand to wrestle in a second one, whining at the too-rough burn and stretch. He rolled his hips back into it, and grabbed the tip of Cor’s cock to grind it hard against his own, hissing.

He didn’t speak as he added a third finger, and then just spat on his hand for one last slick on Cor’s cock. He looked down at the other man, sprawled beneath him, sweaty and breathless and painfully hard. Ardyn grabbed the shaft of his cock and his lip curled in contempt. “You should,” he warned Cor. “You should hate me more than anyone.” Except, perhaps, Noctis.

And that said, he sunk down on the other man’s dick, too-tight and too-dry, and threw his head back as he did it, a hot cry pressing up against the back of his throat. “You should hate me.” His voice was thick with tears, and he tried not to cry, less from the emotion and more from the feeling of Cor tearing him apart all over again. “You should hate me. I wish you would hate me.”

\--

“Ardyn,” Cor said, swallowing hard, begging without even thinking as he watched the other man prepare himself. He kept his hands twisted into the sheets, as though touching him in that moment would disrupt the perfect image of Ardyn opening himself for him, pressing his fingers inside with only his own spit to slick them. It wouldn’t be enough, it would still hurt like hell, and he loved that Ardyn wanted it like that.

He watched him, breathless, as the other man worked in a third finger, his erection so hard it hurt and he was starting to leak, and then Ardyn grabbed his cock and Cor moaned at the sudden touch. “Ardyn,” he gasped. “Please.” The other man lifted his hips and Cor felt the head of his cock pressing against his entrance and slipping inside. It was all tight and dry and hot and he groaned, arching up against him, shuddering as the other man threw his head back and took him deeper.

Ardyn’s voice was tense and thick and Cor reached up to tangle his fingers into his hair, pulling just a little, cupping the side of his head in his hand. He had no idea what Ardyn was going on about, no idea what he could do but let Ardyn fuck himself on him and tell him the truth. “No, Ardyn,” he muttered, shaking his head as he tried to catch his breath. “I… can’t. I can’t hate you. You… you’re all that I want anymore. You’re the only one that makes me feel like I’m,” he swallowed, arched his hips up again, towards him, “Not alone.”

\--

Cor was begging, helplessly straining to lift his hips from the mattress, fingers white-knuckled in the sheets. Finally, Cor cupped the side of his face, fingers tangled in his hair, and Ardyn pressed his cheek into the other man’s hand, dragging his teeth over the tendons in his wrist. “Don’t say that,” his voice cracked as he spoke, clenching down hard as his body rebelled at Cor’s too-long cock breaking him apart, not stretched. It hurt to stay down on him, his body twisting and muscles cramping. It _hurt_ and it just made him want it more, made him want it to leave marks and black blood on his thighs and his ass aching from being fucked raw and open and bleeding. “Please don’t.”

He couldn’t handle not being alone—couldn’t handle having someone else, having—

Ardyn just bent over and dragged Cor up toward him, to kiss him, to kiss him and not think about what that meant. Kissing was easy, riding his cock until his ass felt broken and ruined was easy. Thinking about what it meant that he was just a makeshift substitute for a dead king was _hard_.

\--

Ardyn leaned into his touch, teeth scraping across his wrist, and Cor shuddered. “Gods,” he breathed as Ardyn clenched around him, told him, begged him not to say those words, but they were true. And Ardyn was so tight around him, he could feel himself filling the other man to his breaking point, and he was so, so hot Cor gasped for breath. It felt so good it almost hurt, and the tightness and the heat of it was driving him mad. He wanted to fuck him, desperately.

Then the other man leaned over, dragged him up and kissed him and Cor parted his lips, let him in, kissed him back, harder, deeper. He tangled his fingers into Ardyn’s thick, wild hair again, stroked it, dragged his nails across his scalp.

“Ardyn,” he gasped, dragging him closer, rocking his hips up into against him, pressing his cock in deeper. “Don’t think.” He bit at his lower lip, dug his teeth in and kissed him again, long and deep. “Just feel.”

\--

He didn’t need Cor to tell him that. He didn’t need Cor to tell him anything at all, just needed him to _shut up_ and be a willing pair of hands and cock for literally even just five minutes. He wanted Cor to pull his hair until his scalp stung, wanted to break apart into glass shards on his dick.

Gasping, Ardyn grabbed the other man’s hands, pulled the one in his hair free, and brought them both to his neck, so that Cor’s fingers wrapped all the way around his throat. The bite marks on the back of his neck were still there—almost healed, where they would stay until he no doubt died again. “If you want me to stop thinking,” he snarled, rolling his hips back to grind on Cor’s cock, hitching up and down with every breath, just enough so that the head of the other man’s cock ground repeatedly against his prostate, making his lungs feel oddly heavy with every breath. “You’d better make me stop breathing.”

He gave Cor a perhaps too-cocky smile, and finally gave in toward pulling up to the head and then sinking back down too-hard and too-fast, getting a sharp, biting gut-clench of muscle for his efforts. “See if you can get me to come before you kill me this time.”

\--

Ardyn took his hands, wrenched them free of his hair and brought them to his throat. Cor felt his breath catch and the pit of his stomach clench, his cock throbbing inside the other man. He would. Oh, he would.

He sat up a little, watching Ardyn’s face as he took hold of his neck hard in both hands, spreading his fingers out, pressing the heel of one palm against his throat. It was so much easier to do it with both hands, and he could feel how rough his throat was with stubble, but how soft his skin was just beneath the hair on the back of his neck. Ardyn rolled down onto his cock, grinding against him.

That cocky smile made his heart thud wildly in his chest, and he stroked the line of his jaw with one thumb and started to squeeze, putting all the strength of his hands to use, jerking his hips up off the mattress and fucking up into him at the same time in a hard, steady rhythm. He didn’t say anything, just panted and watched him intently as he choked him and fucked him.

\--

Cor held him by the throat like if he did it too tight Ardyn might shatter, with some sort of sick gentle affection, and it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Cor to shove him against the wall and crush his spine, wanted him to fuck Ardyn until he bled and passed out, wanted to just stop _being_ anything at all. He knew what to do, though, and Ardyn purred a breathless “Good boy,” as Cor started to fuck up into him, heel of his palm digging into Ardyn’s throat. He could feel his voice vibrating against the other man’s hand as he spoke. The pace they were both setting was something wrong-footed and strange, all about imbalance and Ardyn’s absolute desire to not remember anything except the way Cor’s dick felt inside him. He wanted to wake up and remember that feeling, like his body would start to be shaped that way. “Scared of going too far, Marshal?” He slid down to the base of Cor’s dick and moaned, low and long, as he rolled his hips backward to milk his prostate.

“If I’d wanted you to be gentle, I would go somewhere else. You used to be so unafraid to hurt me.” He leaned forward slightly, increasing the pressure of Cor’s hands on his throat, grinding against the head of his cock, his own slit leaking onto the base of the Marshal’s stomach. “What changed, Cor?” He could only whisper, the words breathless and ragged in his throat. “I never asked you to _stop_.”

\--

When Ardyn called him a good boy, Cor jerked up into him, choked out a groan and almost, almost came then and there. It made him feel like he was on fire, he was so hot, and he wanted to pull Ardyn closer and fuck wildly into him, even more than he was now.

Gasping for breath, he flushed hard at his own sudden even more desperate arousal and the accusation on the other man’s lips. He wasn’t afraid of going too far… but at the same time, he was. He watched the other man slide down on his cock, echoed his moan. He knew exactly what Ardyn wanted and he wanted to give it to him, he did, and he intended to, but Ardyn was right. Something had changed. When he’d gone from hating him to… whatever he felt now…

But Ardyn, certainly, had not lost the ability to urge him on, and Cor clenched his jaw and growled quietly. It was awkward to move his legs with the way Ardyn had pushed his trousers down around his knees, but he still had plenty of leverage and plenty of muscle to make use of.

Sitting up, he rolled the two of them right over, shoving Ardyn down onto the mattress instead, still seated deep inside him, hands still tight around his throat. And there, with a much better angle at his disposal, he wrapped his hands tighter still around his neck, squeezed until he felt his fingers straining from the effort, fucked into him fast and deep and hard and watched the other man’s eyes while he did it.

Before, he’d choked him to death out of anger and hatred. Now, he just wanted to watch his eyes glaze over in bliss, wanted to watch as he grew so close to passing out all the thoughts in his head, whatever they were, stopped.

\--

Cor moaned and jerked up into him, his already-hard cock throbbing and bouncing inside of him, and Ardyn managed a hoarse whisper of a laugh, grabbing Cor’s short hair and dragging his head back by the nape of his neck. “You like that?” he cooed, smirking down at the other man. “You like being so good for me, Cor?” How long until Ardyn whispered _die for me_ and Cor would? How long until—

Cor cut his train of thought off neatly at the source by rolling them over, pinning Ardyn to the sheets, their legs tangling together, his hips pushed up so that Cor could fuck straight into him, and the first thrust like that he could feel up his spine, leaving his legs weak and his throat full and his back aching with pressure and sparks.

Cor was crushing his neck. He couldn’t breathe at all, and Ardyn’s arms fell splayed to the mattress, fingers fluttering beside his head. He seized up as Cor fucked him harder, as he desperately tried to breathe and found nothing there waiting for him. His mouth was open and there was a ragged noise at the back of his throat, tears burning the backs and corners of his eyes. Mouthing _please_ was the closest he could come to begging for what he wanted, for begging for Cor to just make it all go away, and he dug his heels into the meat of the other man’s back, urged him closer, harder, to twist into him, his vision going dark at the edges and his face hot with blood, but Cor looked beautiful with his hair plastered to his forehead and his lips in a grimace and his _eyes_ , his eyes so bright, so bright, a luminescent sunlit sky in a dingy shitty motel room.

\--

He was so deep, so deep his balls were tight against the other man’s ass and with that much cock in him he could only imagine that Ardyn could feel it pressing up his spine, felt like he was getting torn in two. The way the look in his eyes changed so fast was beautiful. And Cor _did_ like being good for him. Wanted to be. He loved the way Ardyn grabbed his hair, pulled on it, laughed. He’d have given Ardyn almost anything, including this. The feeling of being fucked to unconsciousness, fucking him open on his cock, making him beg for more.

He knew he was crushing his neck, that he’d leave bruises, that it would hurt for days or weeks after, but Ardyn loved it so much, so he kept squeezing, even as the man tried to gasp for breath and wasn’t able, even as he turned blue from lack of air. His eyes and his lips and the ragged, desperate sound he made begged for Cor to keep going, not to stop, to never stop.

There were no words for this. He couldn’t even find it in him to curse, he just groaned as he fucked him harder, shoving in as hard as he could and jerking into him, urged on by Ardyn’s heels pressing into his back, pulling him closer. And Ardyn, as his body twitched beneath him, breathless, pupils wide, looked up at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world, like Cor’s eyes were the only thing still grounding him.

“Ardyn,” he found himself muttering under his breath, leaning down over him, pressing their foreheads together as he gasped, fucking him faster, jerking his hips wildly, and he couldn’t help himself as he came, hard, half sobbing at the pressure and the friction. It was so much. Too much, almost, but so, so good, and he didn’t stop, didn’t let himself stop even when he was done. He squeezed the other man’s neck harder and kept pushing into him, driving himself on, fucking him as hard as he could.

\--

There was something freeing about blacking out. When it all went to just static and emptiness, when the darkness was beyond the edges of his eyes, and all he could hear was the pound of his heartbeat and the deeper sound of Cor fucking into him. He could hear the bones creaking in Cor’s hands, and taste the tears that were wet on his lips. His lungs were _burning_ , an ache deep in his chest, trying to burst free. He felt like he could combust, could die. He was so hot, his cock so hard, and the overwhelming pressure on his burning throat, on his prostate, was just like surf hitting the shore. His fingers grasped weakly at his hair, at the sheets, at Cor’s steely unbreakable hold and his strong wrists. He was trying to buck up against the other man, to break his hold, to breathe but he didn’t want to, he _relished_ that darkness, and Cor—

Cor whispered his name as he came, and that was too much and not enough all at the same time, and Ardyn followed him over the edge, helplessly sobbing as the veins in his face throbbed. His nose was bleeding he couldn’t move he just.

He was crying as he came, as low and rolling and perfect as thunder and fire and lava, vision black and his mind just.

Empty.

\--

Ardyn came between them moments later, straining against his hold, all of him taught like a wire, fingers grasping for him weakly, moving against him, sobbing, tears at the corners of his eyes. His lips were parted to gasp for breath, or to shout in ecstasy, or to sob endlessly.

It was the most gorgeous thing Cor had ever seen.

He let go of Ardyn’s throat when he was done, stopped pressing down and slid his fingers into his hair instead, cupping the back of his neck. He kissed him, slow and gentle, then drew back to look at his face, at his wide, beautiful eyes.

He sighed, trembling a little, too, as he eased his cock out of the other man before it got to be far too much overstimulation. Rolling off him to the side, he let Ardyn stay where he was, on his back, blissed out and nearly unconscious. Cor leaned up on one elbow to stared down at him, ran his fingers gently over his chest to feel whether he was breathing again. He was panting still himself, trying to catch his breath, too tired to move much more than that. He wasn’t particularly worried. Ardyn had withstood far worse, and he wanted to give him as much time as he needed.

\--

Cor’s fingers were warm on the back of his neck, tangled in the soft hairs there. His lips were chapped but gentle, and in the absolute hush after his orgasm, so near to passing out, that was all Ardyn had. He couldn’t even see, he was so overwhelmed oxygen-deprived. He could just feel weight and pressure and.

Quiet.

He closed his eyes, still totally overwhelmed, and felt the other man’s hand on his chest, just above his heart. Ardyn’s breathing was shallow and ragged, his chest still tight and burning. His throat ached and burned something awful, his whole body was sore. He was blank, the mire gone, the whispers silent. He felt worn-thin and worn-out and worn-in and _whole_.

Eventually, when his vision wasn’t black and spots any more, he struggled to fumble his hand over to find Cor’s, and curled his fingers around the other man’s, turned his face slightly to press into the dip of Cor’s neck, and let out a shaky, shallow breath.

The rest of it might be terrible, but this—was all right.

\-- 

After that, with the warmth of their hands pressed together and the gentle turn of the other man’s face against the side of his neck, Cor had pulled the blankets over them both and curled up next to him. They fell asleep like that, tangled, warm together beneath the sheets, too exhausted to move or speak.

It was the morning light that woke him at last, spilling in through the room’s single window, pouring over the bed until it touched his closed eyes. Cor grunted, threw an arm over his face, rolled onto his side and groaned. He’d always been an early riser, but there were some days where he’d just rather stay in bed, and this was already starting to feel like one of them.

At last, he opened his eyes a crack, and was met immediately by the sight of an unruly head of maroon hair resting on the pillow beside him.

Ardyn.

He almost sat up in shock. It wasn’t that he didn’t remember the previous night. No, he remembered that very, very clearly. But when he’d drifted off to sleep with Ardyn tucked around him, he recalled thinking to himself that he ought to enjoy it, because in the morning the other man would almost certainly be gone. It would be just like him, to get up before the sun rose, get dressed and disappear, leaving Cor nothing but a gentle kiss on the forehead like he had the last time.

Instead, the other man, sleeping and warm and naked beneath the sheets, was still in bed with him, and he couldn’t even begin to think what to do. Aside from sharing with other soldiers out of necessity, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a bed with someone. The last time he’d woken up like this.

Letting out a slow sigh, he tucked himself back beneath the covers, wrapped an arm around the other man’s waist and tugged him closer, pressing his face into his hair and breathing him in, smiling a little. At the least, he knew when not to pass up an opportunity he’d been given, and this was one he was going to let himself enjoy while he had it.

\--

Ardyn had barely noticed when his exhaustion shifted into sleep, and had dropped off between one breath and the next, his body and mind both still overwhelmed and on cooldown.

He did not dream, and it was a blessing.

At dawn, he shifted into drowsy consciousness, jarred out of empty darkness and rest by motion and movement. He felt, immediately, like shit. His throat was so badly bruised it was doubtful he could speak, his ass was raw and ached. His head still throbbed with a low headache from choking. And, tucked into his shoulder, arm thrown over his waist, was Cor. Warm, and there.

He hadn’t left when he’d woken up.

Ardyn closed his eyes, at least for the moment too exhausted to do anything else, and turned slightly to tuck himself further into Cor’s arms before he fell back asleep.

\--

Ardyn tucked up more against him and Cor had never felt so warm, or so…. happy. Closing his eyes again, it was far too easy to drift off into another peaceful sleep, face pressed into the other man’s messy hair.

When he woke up the second time, completely disoriented with no idea how much time had passed, Ardyn was still there. Still asleep, still warm in his arms, though the two of them had shifted around a little. Sleepily, Cor wrapped himself around the other man again, lazily touched his hair, leaned in and kissed the bruising around his neck. He didn’t want to wake him too soon, though. Especially not after the way he’d been acting before Cor had pinned him down and choked him near to unconsciousness. There was something heavy on the other man’s mind, though he doubted Ardyn would ever tell him what. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. As long as he could make it all go away for a little while, that was enough.

He wasn’t completely sure when he’d started to care for the other man. It wasn’t a good thing, he knew that. But, for now, it was all he wanted, and after everything he’d been through, didn’t he deserve to have this? As long as it wasn’t hurting anyone, he didn’t see the harm in it. They could have each other and still fulfill their duties.

Sighing quietly against his skin, he held Ardyn and tried not to think too hard about it.

\--

He woke for the second time near enough to noon that the room was flooded with sunlight. The days were still nearly their regular length, so his internal clock couldn’t have been too off. It was late, even for him.

Cor was still draped over him, warm calloused fingers on his side. Ardyn shoved the other man half-heartedly just for the purpose of having done so, and then dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. He felt terrible.

He tried to groan, but all that managed to come out of his throat was a whispery, grating sound, and for a long moment, he lay there. Considering. Because—the fact was that his voice was apparently gone because of how bad the bruising on his vocal chords was.

Finally, when it seemed there was nothing to be done, he pushed up on his elbows and rolled to a sitting position, scrubbing a hand through his ruinous bedhead. His ass hurt something awful, and his thighs stuck to the sheets when he shifted. He turned slightly, chin pillowed on his arm, to look balefully at Cor, still sprawled against the pillows. “You couldn’t even be bothered to wipe me up?” Ardyn asked, his voice coming out a hoarse, ragged whisper low in his throat. There would be black blood on the sheets, that was for sure.

\--

The other man stirred against him, shoved on him weakly, and Cor pulled his arm away, leaned up on one elbow and smiled a little at him. “Good morning,” he said as Ardyn let out a hoarse, whispery sound, laying there for a long moment. Most likely, his voice had been completely wrecked, and Cor wasn’t surprised.

At last, Ardyn turned to look at him, his eyes still tired, and he could see the extensive bruising across his throat. He was sure his ass was a mess, too. “I feel asleep,” he said, as if that excused him which it really didn’t. The sheets were probably a mess, and that was not going to be fun for the motel’s housekeeping staff to take care of.

He was a bit of a mess himself, too, and he sat up, stretched out his back and rolled his shoulders. “I’ll get you something to wipe up with,” he told him, even if the stickiness would have settled in by now.

Hauling himself out of bed, he grunted, made his way to the bathroom and dug out a cloth and one of the two cups they were supplied, wet the cloth and filled the glass with water, and brought both back to the bed, handing them to him. “That may help a little.” Still going to be a mess. He should have thought ahead and put a towel down but then again, it had been very sudden.

\--

Cor excused it with he fell asleep, and Ardyn snorted, the breath ruffling his hair. He couldn’t even stay properly annoyed with Cor. He just folded his knees up, thighs and lower back slow to shift, and wrapped his arms around his legs, chin on his knees, waiting as the other man crawled out of bed. He got a good look at Cor as he walked around, naked as the day he was born, the impressions of the sheet lines still pressed to his lower back. His ass was really impressive.

The tap ran in the bathroom, and Cor came back with a cloth and a glass water. Ardyn took the cloth first, and winced in pain as he wiped up between his thighs and over his ass, hole scabbed and tender, and then scraped the congealed come on the base of his stomach and pubic hair off as best he could. No matter how much time passed, in his opinion, that was still the most disgusting part.

Tossing the cloth into the bathroom to deal with later, he took the water and nodded a silent thanks to the other man. It did help somewhat, although most of the problem wasn’t going to be dealt with by water. Time or death alone would deal with the damage to his throat. Cor had done a number on him, and Ardyn was sure when he got a chance to look there would be yellow bruises shaped like the Marshal’s handprints spangling his skin.

Dragging his fingers through his hair, trying to make some semblance of order and failing, Ardyn groaned and stretched his aching legs back out, rubbed the back of his neck. He should not have spent the night; they had been expecting him back. He should not have spent the night; he was getting too attached. He should not have spent the night; it was just in general a bad idea.

Here he was anyway.

\--

Ardyn cleaned himself off, tossed the cloth away and drank the water, and Cor returned to the bathroom to clean off his own stomach and his dick and to splash water on his face. When he returned, Ardyn was stretched out on the bed, rubbing his neck. He looked like a mess, his hair nearly sticking straight up and all tangled, the handprint bruises standing out on his pale skin, his eyes tired. Cor shouldn’t have smiled, but he did.

If he’d had his way he might have tried to comb that unruly hair like you’d comb an angry long-haired cat, but he didn’t really want to incite the other man’s ire more than he already had by fucking him to bleeding and choking him so hard he couldn’t speak.

Ardyn was admittedly much easier to deal with when he was so hoarse he could barely say anything at all, but Cor wasn’t going to say that to him. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked over at him. “Thank you for staying the night,” he said. “I didn’t think you would.”

\--

Cor was smiling at him indulgently, like one might look at an overtired toddler who has finally worn themselves into well-behaved exhaustion. Ardyn managed to scrape up a disinterested glare, but it was about all he was capable of, his hands resting over his stomach as he lay there totally boneless and exhausted.

After a moment, the other man sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. Ardyn grunted in response to his statement and closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have,” he whispered in reply, waving one hand lazily, and left it at that. He shouldn’t have, he was going to have to deal with the mess from this later, he could probably hop back and forth a little bit to deal with the potential ramifications of his subordinates being baffled by his disappearance, but he had decided to settle on just remaining exactly where he was for the foreseeable future. He felt disgusting, and he badly needed a shower, but so far even that was out of his emotional purview of _things he was capable of caring enough about to make get out of bed._

\--

Ardyn dismissed him with a wave of his hand, about as he’d expected. It was true. He shouldn’t have. But, he did, and Cor was glad for it. More happy than he should have been. Better that he did, anyway, in the state he was in.

Moving back onto the bed, Cor leaned up against the headboard, watching the other man. Gently, he reached out one arm, tugged him over a little closer, and carded his fingers through that great mess of hair. It was all tangled and knotted and he wasn’t about to start attacking it with a comb, but maybe with just his fingers, gently working out the knots, he could get away with it. And, admittedly, Ardyn’s hair was gorgeous, and he wanted nothing more than to get his hands in it those wild red waves.

“Come here,” he muttered, stroking it all to try to get it to lay flat again, though it was very unruly. Most of the knots were on the side, where Cor had grabbed at it the previous night and, slowly, he started to work his fingers through the tangles, easing them out.

\--

Cor moved around him, and after a few minutes started tugging gently on his hair, fingers pulling through the tangles that Cor had left the night before, only exacerbated by their fucking and then sleeping on the mess. “Quit,” he half-heartedly mumbled, smacking ineffectually at the other man’s hand. He didn’t stop, and Ardyn whined, trying to pull away from him. “Stop.”

Cor didn’t stop. He just kept going, pulling knots out of his hair, fingers massaging his scalp, until Ardyn had rolled over far enough to give him better access. Cor’s fingers were warm, and it was nice to get the knots out without having to exert literally any effort at all. Before long, he was just a puddle on the sheets, zoned out and boneless and exhausted with warm fingers playing with his hair.

\--

Ardyn protested, half-heartedly and quietly, so Cor paid it no mind, including the very weak ineffectual smacking. “Hush,” he muttered to him instead. “It’s going to pull a little, just relax.” He scratched his head for a moment to soothe him and kept on working out the knots, finding them and pulling them gently apart with his fingers. His hair was beautiful, all red and purple tones, wavy and light and thick.

When Ardyn eventually gave in and rolled over for him, Cor hummed in quiet appreciation. He stroked the other man’s head in between pulling out the worst of the tangles, running his fingers through Ardyn’s hair and rubbing at his scalp, behind his ears and at the back of his head.

It was nice just to get his hands in it, playing with it and marveling at it. His own hair was so short and always had been, and Ardyn’s was so voluminous and beautiful. And, after he stopped complaining about it, Ardyn seemed to like it, too, melting into the sheets as Cor leaned over him. It was quiet and calm and focusing on working out every last knot kept his mind from wandering too much. It was just… nice and relaxing. Something both of them had had far too little of.

\--

He had almost fallen asleep again, relaxed and warm, when across the room in the pocket of his coat, his phone buzzed. Ardyn groaned into the sheets and rolled back upright, snuffling unhappily about the interruption as he dragged his sore legs and aching hips out of bed and weaved his way unbalanced and even more lopsided than usual over to his clothes, dug his phone out, and picked up.

“What?” His voice, even speaking the loudest he could, still came out hoarse and ragged and not really much more than a whisper. He coughed into the back of his hand twice as he tried to clear his throat, but it wasn’t happening. Well, whoever it was would just have to deal with him well-fucked.

It was Aranea. He listened to her with his head in his hands. “You can’t even go without me for one night,” he cooed, and smiled as she told him in no simple terms to fuck off. “I’ll meet you there. We need to prepare; I’ll need you for a favour, Commodore.”

After a moment longer he hung up, and then dropped his phone back into his clothes, and stretched out his back, hands digging into his sore hipbones, and sighed. His hair at least was less of a rats-nest, and he turned around to look at Cor, still sprawled in bed, leaned one hand against the chair. “When are you going to Caem?”

\--

Of course it couldn’t last forever. He’d been hoping to get a little more time, maybe even another night, but that was impractical, of course. He was sure Ardyn had somewhere important he was supposed to be, and when the other man’s phone buzzed he wasn’t surprised, but grunted in quiet dissatisfaction anyway.

Ardyn didn’t seem too happy about it either, groaning and making quiet unhappy noises as he dragged himself out of bed.

Cor leaned back against the headboard, folded his arms, and listened, at the least, to Ardyn’s end of the conversation. He was sounding more like himself already, just from having rested.

When he hung up, Cor smiled at him a little, raising his eyebrows. “Caem?” he asked, and considered how long it had been since he’d left Lestallum. He didn’t even bother to ask why Ardyn knew he was headed there. Of course he’d likely found out that was where Noctis was headed and assumed Cor would follow him. Which was true. “In the next few days. I promised I’d be there, and it will take at least a day to get there. Why?”

\--

Cor didn’t even bother to try and hide where he was headed. Ardyn tucked a smile into the side of his mouth; he was learning that Ardyn was always a step ahead of him. Caem...two thousand years, and it was still the best hidden port on the continent. If you wanted to get out without someone knowing, it would be Caem.

He had used it himself, in a time long past.

“I was just going to say that since you did the damage to the goods,” Ardyn in one slow, elegant gesture encapsulated his bruised and stiff hips, his bleeding ass, his ruined throat, tangled hair, and general out-of-sortsness, “You might be willing to deliver them back to whence they came. Across the bridge. To the Imperial base.”

\--

Cor smiled a little more and shook his head as Ardyn motioned to himself. Always over-dramatic although… this time Cor really had ruined him, and he was pleased with himself for it. Ardyn was gorgeous like that, stiff and exhausted with his hair all wild and his throat bruised, though his hair was looking much better now that Cor had worked out the worst of the tangles. More like it usually did, fluffy and buoyant.

“Of course,” he said, sitting up in bed and stretching his arms up over his head, then his shoulders and his back. “I have time.” Throwing his legs over the side, he tried to find where his pants had ended up when he’d torn them off right before passing out, along with his underwear. “And if you want to eat, I’ll get you something to go on the way out.” He wanted to eat, that was for certain. He’d not eaten all day.

\--

He couldn’t imagine riding second-seat on a motorcycle was going to be comfortable in his current much-abused state, but it would be better than chocobo-back. He’d done that, a few times, back before. It had always left him yelping when everything was said and done.

Scratching the back of his neck, Ardyn shrugged. He didn’t necessarily _need_ to eat, but he always enjoyed it. “If you’re paying.” He yawned, combed his hair back from his face with his fingers. He didn’t want to stand, but he had to shower; he was disgusting. “I’m going to shower.” With that said, he dragged himself into the motel bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. Cor had basically already seen it all several times over now. Once the water was hot and running, he just climbed in and leaned his face against the cool of the tile wall.

What was he doing?

\--

The other man shrugged and Cor nodded. He didn’t mind and it would be good for both of them to eat after all of that. “Fine,” he said as Ardyn went to shower and continued digging his trousers out of where they’d gotten caught up under the sheets at the bottom of the bed. He’d showered the previous night and he wasn’t all that much of a mess, not nearly as much as Ardyn, so he just pulled his underwear and trousers on and threw back the blankets, frowning.

The sheets were… a mess. Mostly rumpled, sticky a little, and he was almost certain those were some traces of blood. But there was nothing to be done for it. He’d leave a little extra as a tip for the motel staff.

He did, at least, straighten the blankets and pillows and when he was done, found his shirt, threw it on, and remembered that he hadn’t pestered Ardyn to give him back the one he stole.

His coat was still draped over the back of the chair where he’d left it the day before, and he sat down at the table to count out his gil. He had a good bit from hunts, but he still had to count out what he’d leave for the tip and what he’d use to buy them food and make sure he had enough for potions and fuel for the road.

He did not think about the fact that he was becoming far too friendly with and fond of Ardyn. He did not think about the fact that he was about to drop him off at the Imperial base. He could worry about that more later. Better, for now, to pretend everything was fine. He was happy and he wanted, for just one day, to let himself be happy.

\--

He cleaned up. It was a mess. The bruises on his throat would be visible to everyone. After he was done showering he sat gingerly on the closed toilet seat and messed around with the hair dryer—one of his favourite new inventions. Soon enough his hair was its usual self again, and he emerged still totally naked to gather up his clothes from the day before. It was harder to find his pants and shirt than he wanted it to be, but he dug them up eventually, and shrugged back into it all, straightening his cuffs before he looked at Cor, counting out his money.

Ardyn just finished getting dressed, rather than saying anything, fixing his waistcoat and sliding comfortably back into his coat, draping scarves around his damaged neck, and finally doffing his hat atop his still damp hair.

“Ready when you are, Marshal,” he said, tapping the brim of his hat up.

\--

When Ardyn emerged, Cor looked up, watching him with some interest as he found his clothes and started to dress. He really did have a number of layers, and it was somewhat fascinating to watch how easily he got them all on again.

As he finished up, Cor took a small handful of coins from the ones he’d counted out, left a few on the table, and pushed the rest back into his wallet, which he tucked into his back pocket. He shrugged his jacket on, rolled his shoulders and shifted until it was sitting just right, then pulled his boots over and slid them back onto his feet, tucking his trousers into them and pulling the cuffs of his coat down.

When he looked up at Ardyn, he couldn’t help but smile approvingly. “Looking your usual self again,” he said, and gave the motel room one quick glance over to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “I’m ready. I’ll let you check out while I get us something to eat from the diner. I’ll meet you at my motorcycle and drop you off across the bridge.”

With that, they set out, and as soon as he’d delivered Ardyn to where he needed to go, Cor went on his way.


	5. so destined i am to walk among the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn hesitated then. There was a sour taste in his mouth—regret. One he thought he’d banished long before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [coheed and cambria's "blood red summer"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFObU6-qN_k)

Time travel had a lot of uses. It could tell him what the boys would need before they needed it, and let him send them on an adventure with Aranea.

You know what it _couldn’t_ predict?

Noctis and co. shoving him face-first into a swamp. By the time he had climbed out they were already off on their adventure with Aranea, waiting for the ruins to open with nightfall, and he’d noticed Biggs and Wedge trying not to laugh as he dripped vaguely, disgruntled. So this was what the Accursed had fallen to: being shoved into swamps by the King of Light.

In the end, he’d just driven to the nearest outpost and shelled out gil for the camper, which was still being vacated by the last night’s guests. So, he had pulled out one of the chairs and, in the light of the setting sun, plonked himself down and spread all his limbs to take up the most space possible to start drying out.

\--

Another day after he’d left Ardyn at the base, turned around and drove back out into the wilderness to take some time to himself, he got a call from Cid. The boys had arrived in Caem, but the boat still wasn’t finished, so he’d sent them on an errand to find mythril. He guessed it would take them a few days to get it and return, so he told Cor to take his time. Of course, he was welcome to stay with them in Caem when he arrived, and he would, but it was nice to know he could take it easy. It was going to be a long drive.

He stopped a few times on the road as he went, watching the scenery, taking out some daemons. Nice, easy work. He didn’t let himself think much about his situation with Ardyn, and found it didn’t plague him as much as he thought it would. Whatever happened, he would handle it as it came to him and plan ahead as much as he could, like he always had. Though with Ardyn, planning anything was almost out of the question.

As the sun began to set, he reached the outpost he’d been headed for, a good place to stop for the night that wouldn’t require him to camp. He pulled up in the lot, parked, and squinted at the car in the spot next to his motorcycle. That car looked… very familiar. He frowned, having sudden flashbacks to stabbing his sword straight through the door on the driver’s side and, surely enough, when he looked, there was a hole there, or at least… had been. It was filled in now and painted over, but he could still see the impression of it.

He turned towards the camper. And there was Ardyn, soaking wet, draped into one of the chairs outside. Cor turned off the motor, got off his bike and strode over, folding his arms. For once, Ardyn hadn’t come looking for him. Yet, here he was, clear as day, looking even more like a mess than usual.

“What happened to you?” he asked. “You look like a wet cat.”

\--

At this point, he was getting an almost knee-jerk reaction to the sound of Cor’s motorcycle. Adding insult to injury, he supposed, as he cracked one lazy eye and watched the other man drive into the outpost. Cor paused by his car and looked bemused by its presence, before he turned toward Ardyn.

Ardyn lifted a hand and waved. Like it was the most ordinary thing in the world for him to be sitting in a picnic chair, soaking wet, in the middle of the afternoon.

Cor strode over and stopped in front of him, arms crossed, to stare down at him. Ardyn stared right back up at the other man with his one open eye, and sighed dramatically at his abrupt question. “Your wayward King happened to me, Marshal. Apparently, shoving the High Chancellor in a swamp is kingly behaviour these days. Never know what children will think of next.”

Never mind that he would have once done something very similar himself.

\--

Ardyn stared up at him with one eye, sighing dramatically. At his answer, the Marshal snorted and rubbed at his face with one hand for a moment, trying to hide the laugh bubbling up in his throat at the image of Noctis shoving Ardyn into a swamp.

“He shoved you,” he repeated, “Into a swamp.” He knew he’d taught that boy well. “You probably deserved it.” He gestured to the camper. “Are you… waiting for something?”

\--

“Yes.” Ardyn replied, as deadpan as Cor was. “Is there something surprising about this? He walked up behind me and shoved me into the Vesperpool. Admittedly, it’s not my _first_ time falling into the Vesperpool, but it is an experience I would rather not relive on a regular basis.” Cor was trying not to laugh at him and doing a really bad job of it, but Ardyn didn’t call him out on it.

“Thanks,” Ardyn said drily. “I knew I could count on a vote of confidence from you.” To answer Cor’s question, he jerked a thumb at the camper. “Last night’s residents have yet to clear off the premises, so in the meantime, here I am. Drying like laundry on a line.”

\--

Cor honestly wished he’d been there to see. Although, that probably wouldn’t have gone over very well if he had been, but still. To see the look on Ardyn’s face. “No,” he said. “It’s not surprising at all.”

He just smiled at the other man, giving him an amused look, then glanced at the camper. “Ah, I see.” He frowned a little, shifting on his feet. “Admittedly I had… also intended to rent the camper here for the night.” If it had been anyone else, he would have turned politely and awkwardly left to find a campsite before sundown. But, because it was Ardyn, he pulled up one of the other chairs and sat down, leaning back, hands folded in his lap. “I don’t suppose you’d… like some company?”

\--

Cor sat down after a moment, clearly eyeing the camper, but Ardyn had already rented it. The other man was looking at him thoughtfully, and Ardyn raised both his eyebrows, waiting. “Well,” he settled on, as a non-answer, “I can’t see any reason why not. I’m sure you could...warm me up, after my unexpected swim.”

\--

Cor raised his eyebrows, smiled a little in a self-satisfied way. “Of course,” he said. “I’d be happy to.” Ardyn really was soaking wet after his little fall into the swamp. He’d have to help him get all those filthy, wet clothes off, warm him up in bed.

Admittedly, it was not at all the way he’d planned on spending his evening, but he wasn’t going to say no. Once he went to Caem, he’d be spending time with Monica, Talcott, Dustin, and Iris. That meant he wouldn’t be able to see Ardyn for a while, maybe even a week or two, depending on how long they convinced him to stay. He knew they were worried about him, Monica especially. They didn’t like that he kept disappearing on his own, shaking off everyone else around him. They didn’t really understand. But above all, no matter what, they could not know about Ardyn.

\--

They sat in silence until the last night’s visitors vacated the camper and then Ardyn sighed, waved a hand at the caravan. “Be my guest. Six know I have had enough of sleeping in camp beds but I suppose one more night shan’t hurt me.” He stretched, and picked up his the bag he’d dumped next to his chair. For once he was actually prepared—he’d been on the road so much he had a change of shirt, trousers, and underwear. He was tired of being dirty.

Climbing into the recently-empty camper, Ardyn ran an appraising eye around the inside, checking to see that it was clean (it was) before he tossed his bag on the lower bunk, and looked back at Cor, waiting for the man to follow him in. “Are you coming, Marshal?”

\--

When the previous visitors vacated, Ardyn sighed and waved towards it and Cor stood and stretched. “I’ll just grab my things,” he said, motioning with his thumb to his motorcycle, and walked over to get his pack off the back, slinging it over his shoulder. Ardyn, surprisingly, appeared to have a bag this time as well.

Making his way back over as Ardyn called to him, he followed the other man into the camper, took a quick look around, and closed the door behind him, locking it. He set his bag down at the foot of one bed and turned to eye Ardyn, moving right up towards him, a hand on his chest. “How about I help you get those wet clothes off?”

\--

He’d only just hung his hat on the bedpost when Cor came in and shut the door behind him. The sound of the bolt was loud, and for a moment the two of them just looked at one another. They were teetering on a precipice; it felt like one wrong step and they’d swing too far over the edge. And yet they were jumping anyway.

Ardyn smiled and spread his arms slightly. “You’re welcome to try. I’d like to see how you do.”

\--

Cor couldn’t let himself stop to think when Ardyn was around. He’d learned that much by now. All he could do was bask in his presence, and enjoy the good, hard fucks, and whatever time they managed to scrape together afterwards. It was only a vague semblance of what a relationship should have been like, but a real relationship wasn’t even something he was sure he wanted. No, these moments, the occasional meetings, just to chase the loneliness away, were enough.

“You really are soaking wet,” he mumbled, pressing both hands to the front of his coat, feeling how damp it was beneath his hands. “And you smell like swamp.” Cor didn’t mind that much, though. He often smelled like sweat and the outdoors himself, and he leaned in to kiss the other man anyway, deep and open mouthed, jerking him closer by the lapels of his coat as he shifted his hands around, trying to figure out where to begin. He had a very intricate waistcoat on beneath, which was also soaked and smelly, and his usual shirt.

He got his hands under the heavy coat he wore first, pushing that off his shoulders. “You should hang this up,” he muttered. “So it dries out.”

\--

Ardyn snorted as Cor kissed him and commented on his current damp state. “Yes,” he replied, letting the other man shove his coat off of his shoulders. It was mostly leather, and would be in a right state when it was dry. “Those are usually things that happen when someone shoves you _in a swamp_.” If all Noctis could think of to do to him by the end of this was shove him in a swamp, though, they were dealing with far bigger problems than just his ruined coat.

Their kiss was too much teeth and not enough tongue, and Ardyn responded to Cor dragging on his lapels by grabbing the other man’s shirt in turn, fingers twisted into the mesh of the under-armour. He grunted affirmation, somehow shrugged out of his coat and scarves, and fumbled to get them hung on the bedpost before he was back in Cor’s warm and waiting arms, biting his lower lip to bleeding again. Without his coat, damp as it had been, he was cold and still soaking, and body heat was a good thing to share.

\--

Ardyn grabbed his shirt, twisting his fingers in the cloth and pulling and Cor kissed him again before the other man drew back enough to get out of his coat and his pile of scarves. It only took him a moment to hang them up and then he returned and Cor wrapped one arm around him, pulling Ardyn up against him. He bit back at his lips, pressed his tongue into his mouth and hummed into the kiss.

With one hand, he found the clasps of his waistcoat, undoing them, and slid the other up under the back of his shirt to press his warm palm against Ardyn’s cool, damp skin. Realistically, he ought to shower. That would warm his bones and chase off any of the chill from sitting around in wet clothes. But he was far too wound up in kissing him and peeling all his layers off one by one to suggest it.

\--

Cor was too focused on getting him undressed, and remarkably, at the moment, Ardyn didn’t care at all. He was completely invested in crawling up the other man like he could climb him like a tree, digging his fingers up under his shirts, rucking them up above his pecs. Ardyn was cold enough that their proximity had made the other man’s nipples hard, and he brushed them gently, fingers scraping through his chest hair, and shifted up and against Cor’s mouth. His waistcoat was half-off, and he shrugged it onto the ground, not caring about the wet slap it made as it hit the floor, before he abruptly hauled Cor against him, their teeth clicking.

“Are you going to just unwrap me like a present all night, or are we going somewhere with this?”

\--

Ardyn’s hands slid up under his shirts, pushing them up, brushing his nipples and scraping at his chest and Cor gasped against his lips, leaning into him, all his skin tingling where Ardyn touched him. The other man’s waistcoat hit the ground and Cor got his fingers under Ardyn’s shirt and started pulling that off too when the other man jerked him closer, their teeth grinding together, and Cor had to swallow down the moan bubbling up in his throat.

“We are,” he ground out, pressing against him, backing him up and shoving him against the wall of the camper. He kissed him again, harder, sliding his knee between the other man’s thighs. “It can go wherever you want it to.” He was just enjoying undressing him, more than he thought he would. There was something rewarding about pulling him out of all those ridiculous layers.

\--

Cor dragged his shirt up, and Ardyn had to fumble to get his scarf off to keep from being choked by it before he lifted his arms to get it the rest of the way over his head, the cuffs catching. Shirtless and still damp he was cold, his hair plastered in thick bunches to his scalp, and he shoved Cor’s jacket off his shoulders and practically clawed up under his shirts to get at the warmth of his skin. Cor had his thigh shoved up between Ardyn’s legs and he muffled a moan against the other man’s lips, fingers splayed over the powerful muscle of his shoulders as he ground down, humping Cor’s thigh and moaning high in his throat. “You seem to have some idea of what you want.”

\--

They dragged each other’s shirts off and Cor pressed himself right up against the other man, trapping him against the wall, the warmth of his muscled chest against Ardyn’s cool skin, and he tangled one hand roughly into his damp, messy hair, curling his fingers against the back of his neck and pulling on it. Ardyn moaned against his lips, grinding against his thigh, gorgeous and needy.

Cor shoved his cock against Ardyn’s hip, grinding his thigh back up against the other man’s erection, and leaned down to bite at the slope of his neck. “What?” he ground out against his skin. “You mean fucking you right here against the wall? I’m sure you’d like that.” He pressed one hand to the front of Ardyn’s slacks, ground his palm against his dick and started undoing his fly so he could get his soaking wet pants off, too.

\--

Cor pulled his head back by his hair, clearly getting off on his noises, so Ardyn didn’t hesitate to moan unabashed into his mouth, dragging his nails down the other man’s chest to leave welts as Cor bit at the slope of his neck, adding teethmarks to the still-healing bruises that had left faint yellow splotches on his fair skin.

He laughed at Cor’s suggestion. “So hasty.” Not that he was any better, rolling his hips back against the other man to grind their cocks hard together, shifting up onto his toes to give Cor room to drag his slacks away from where they were sticking wetly to his skin down to his thighs, his cock springing free. He shuddered, glad to have his erection free of cold, sticky cotton. “Think you can warm me up just with your cock, Marshal?”

\--

Ardyn’s nails dragged down his chest and Cor snorted at him when he called him hasty. Ardyn had no room to talk, considering the number of times he’d urged Cor on until they were fucking wildly against some surface or other. Of course the one time he got right to it, Ardyn called him hasty.

Cor knew he was just being a prat, though. With the way he was rolling his hips, letting Cor drag his slacks off, and moaning, he in no way wanted Cor to slow down or stop.

When he got his trousers down around his ankles, he took the other man’s cock in his palm, warming it in his hand, stroking his length, rubbing his thumb against the thick vein on the underside. “Definitely,” he mumbled against the side of his neck, shifting a little and biting down to leave another mark.

He pulled Ardyn’s hips up against his own, his thigh pressed up between his legs, and spat on his fingers, then went right back to kissing him as he brought his hand around and pressed two fingers against his entrance, easing them up inside. “Still sore from last time?” he asked. It had been a few days at least, but he’d fucked him to the absolute breaking point.

\--

Ardyn grunted as Cor bit down on the side of his neck again—going to leave more marks. It was almost surprising how many he’d kept in the time since they’d first fucked. He’d managed to go a remarkably long time still in one piece, all things considered. When Cor spat on his fingers, Ardyn whined, clawed at his shoulders and hair, hitched up off of his thigh. The worst part was he didn’t even have to play the role of the needy and desperate any more, because he _was_. “Fuck,” he swore, as soon as the other man reached under him, and he hooked one ankle around Cor’s waist, calf caught on the sharp jut of his hipbone.

He _was_ sore—he hadn’t recovered from how badly Cor had torn him up, but he absolutely didn’t care. “Yes,” Ardyn hissed, kicking his slacks the rest of the way off, and grabbing tight to the other man’s shoulders, trusting Cor to take his weight. “Not sore enough. You’d better fix that.”

\--

The way Ardyn whined for him, fingers scrambling desperately to grab onto his shoulders and his hair, and the way the other man arched against him made Cor achingly, painfully hard. His breathing was heavy, his heart pounding, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck Ardyn against the wall until he cried.

Ardyn already had one leg up around his waist, lifting his hips for Cor to reach under him, and Cor bit at his lips and pressed his face back to the side of his neck where the bruises he’d left last time still stained his skin.

“Gods,” he ground out, pressing his fingers into him as Ardyn urged him on. He felt so warm and good on the inside, tight but not nearly as tight as the first time Cor had wrestled his fingers into him, and he twisted them in deeper. Ardyn was mostly supporting himself between Cor and the wall, but he didn’t mind, he could take the weight, and he liked the feeling of Ardyn practically climbing him, clinging to him like a rock in a storm. “I will,” he promised, scraping his teeth across his skin. The pit of his stomach twisted in arousal at the idea of fucking deep into him when he was still sore and a little bit loose from the last time they’d fucked.

\--

Cor urged him on, grabbing up his other leg so that Ardyn was hanging from his waist and shoulders, and given how close they were in height, it couldn’t have been an easy lift. Head thrown back, his eyes unfocused on the ceiling as Cor bit at his neck again, two fingers twisting inside him, Ardyn just hung on and _felt_. He was sore, yes, but still loose, and Cor wouldn’t have to try all that hard to get into him.

As he grunted, trying not to clench down around the other man’s fingers, Ardyn slapped him on the shoulder, scraped fingernails up the back of his neck, and tangled his fingers in Cor’s short hair, dragged his head back. “Shower,” Ardyn hissed, looking into Cor’s eyes, bright and with the pupils blown-wide. “I want you fucking me in the shower.” For practical reasons as well: the tile might help the wall take both their weights as Cor was no doubt going to fuck him hard enough that his hipbones would be bruised for days again.

\--

Ardyn was already being wonderfully quiet, just arching towards him, and he could hear his pounding heart and his gasping breath and the way he echoed it. Tugging against him on the inside, he was about to push in a third finger when Ardyn slapped at his shoulder, and there were fingernails scraping at his neck, making him wince until they tangled up into his hair.

He looked up at Ardyn’s beautiful green and brown eyes, and blinked at him. He’d completely forgotten about taking a shower, he was so caught up in his desperate need to fuck him right then and there.

“Yes,” he muttered, gently pulling his fingers out and letting him down so he could get his feet on the floor again. “Yes, all right.” He kissed him, nipping at his mouth, and pulled away a little, one hand still on Ardyn’s hip. “Let’s go.” It wasn’t too far to the bathroom, and as he went he started undoing his own trousers with his other hand, so he could slip out of them easily when they got there.

\--

It took Cor a moment to realise he was looking at Ardyn, his eyes glassy and distracted, and when they refocused, Ardyn smiled at him not-unkindly, clenched down on his fingers. It was sweet, how far to distraction he could drive Cor just by _being there_. Finally, though, the other man pulled back slightly, let Ardyn slide back to the floor, and he had to press one hand to the wall behind him to get his balance back. His knees were shaky, his entrance sore and fluttering and open. He wanted, wanted Cor something awful, but he also wanted to stop smelling like swamp.

Ardyn missed having Cor’s lapels to grab at already, and it was in a stumbling mess that they made it across the scant space to the shower. The camper bathroom was not meant for one full-size adult, let alone two, but they squished in, and Ardyn backed blindly into the tiny stall shower, fumbled with the knobs, and yelped as cold water gushed over him. He shoved his hair out of his face to let it get soaked back, and stared breathless out at Cor, still standing too far away from him, and shivered, freezing cold under the water and painfully hard.

“Get in here,” Ardyn snarled, teeth clenched to keep from chattering, “And get your fingers back in me.”

\--

They stumbled into the bathroom together, which was small enough itself, and Cor stripped his trousers and underwear and socks and boots off in a hurry, setting them all off to the side in a pile while Ardyn got the water running.

The other man had all but slammed himself into the shower and got it going, yelping at how cold the water was, and Cor looked over at him, his eyes wide, body shivering. Cor almost protested that the water looked far too cold for comfort but thought better of it and did as Ardyn said, squeezing into the shower with him, grunting unhappily as the cold water washed over them.

Immediately, he shoved the two of them together, pressing Ardyn up against the shower wall, which wasn’t exactly hard to do given the size of it. He was almost glad for it, it would be easier to brace himself against the wall behind him. Slamming their mouths together again, he brought his hand around and worked three fingers up into him, picking up where he’d left off. As he loosened him up, he negotiated their legs, dragging one of Ardyn’s up around his hip again and pressing him harder against the wall.

\--

Cor came when called, and Ardyn draped his arms over the other man’s shoulders again, biting the tip of his tongue as they kissed. Cor didn’t waste any time getting three fingers in him, the stretch more than a little painful as it tore open barely-healed skin. Ardyn hissed, pressed their foreheads together. “Yes,” his whimper was low in his throat, shifting to get both his legs around Cor’s waist again, the slippery tile warming up under his back as he rolled his hips back against the other man’s fingers. “Yes, Astrals, just like that. Get it in me.” Cor’s fingers were sword-calloused and blunt and efficient, just like his personality. He bit his lip, and then Cor’s again. The water was heating up, both of them were getting warm. “Cor, please.”

\--

Ardyn’s arms draped around his shoulders, and Cor pressed his fingers in further, until he couldn’t possibly press them in anymore. Ardyn’s quiet sounds of approval made his cock throb, and he got both his legs around Cor’s waist again. Cor grunted at the effort of holding him up, adjusted slightly to get a better grip on his thigh, and gasped against his lips.

Pressing their foreheads together, he bit back at the other man’s mouth. Ardyn was gorgeous and desperate and hot around his fingers and he pulled them out a little and shoved them back in a few times, fucking him on them. What he really wanted, though, was to do that with his cock, and as the water began to warm and Ardyn begged him, Cor let out a shuddering breath. His cock was leaking helplessly and he was so hard he almost felt woozy from it.

Pulling his fingers out, he grabbed the other man’s hip in one hand and his cock in the other, guiding it up against his entrance until he could wedge the head inside. He gasped at the heat, groaned quietly, and started guiding himself in deeper. Ardyn’s weight pressing down made it easier, and he shifted their hips together, bracing the other man against the wall and rocking his cock up into him as he slid further down.

\--

Cor’s breath shuddered in his chest, and Ardyn made a triumphant noise, looking at the other man from half-lidded eyes, smiling like a cat with the cream, heels pressed to the small of his back. His cock was blood-hot and hard and trapped next to Ardyn’s, and it was all too easy to grind back against it, feel it stiff against him. “You look like you want something, Marshal.”

Or at least, that was what he tried to say, but it trailed off into a broken moan as Cor got the head of his cock into him, and Ardyn threw his head back so fast that he grunted in pain as he cracked his skull against the tile wall. With his weight and gravity working in tandem it was almost too-fast down to the base, and a pained whimper pressed up against his tongue as he breathed through it. Cor was too-big and too-hard and just right, breaking him open. The water made it easier, slicking them both, but even that wasn’t enough.

Impatient, the other man was already fucking into him, and Ardyn dug his nails into the back of Cor’s neck, pulling on the soft hairs there. “Shit,” he moaned, not able to stop the other man from fucking into him already, setting a rough, shallow pace. “You’re not going to _break me_.” Even if he already felt broken, even if he already felt cracked, he couldn’t stop egging Cor on.

\--

Ardyn slammed his head back against the shower wall, moaning and whimpering beautifully as Cor got his cock into him. There was nothing better than watching Ardyn lose his mind as Cor fucked into him, and he hissed between his teeth as the other man’s nails dug in at the back of his neck, pulling on his hair.

The warm water cascaded down around them, and he pressed their bodies closer together, shoved Ardyn harder against the wall. The other man was already egging him on and he gasped and gave him what he wanted, grabbing his hips and shoving in harder, fucking him back against the wall. Ardyn was just barely slick from the water, all hot and tight around him and Cor groaned quietly as he worked up a faster, rougher pace.

He bit down at the soft skin near his collarbone and, when he was certain he could hold up his weight, let go of one hip to grab his neck instead. He still had bruises there from last time and when he thought about leaving new, fresh bruises on top of the old, he moaned and pulled Ardyn down harder onto his cock.

\--

Cor grabbed his hips, and found a pace that kept banging Ardyn’s shoulder blades back into the tile. It was hard to breathe, too steamy from the hot water of the shower, and it didn’t help that Cor was biting at his collarbone and soon enough had a hand wrapped around his throat, Ardyn hissing and closing his eyes as he held onto the other man’s shoulders for dear life. If he dropped—

He was rather attached to Cor’s cock remaining a functional part of his anatomy.

Cor was basically just using Ardyn as a warm body, dragging him down onto his cock by his throat, and Ardyn made a wet, helpless noise low in his chest. Cor’s skin was slippery and wet, his heart was jammed up into his mouth, and every time the other man dragged him down his cock rammed up hard into Ardyn’s prostate, left him shaking hard, his thighs tensing and his ankles jumping in knee-jerk reaction.

He scrabbled with one hand, trying to get some kind of leverage, grabbed at the slick tile behind him. There wasn’t a grip there, his palm sliding against the wall, and his sore throat, all bruised still, ached as Cor shoved his head back against the wall, mercilessly fucked into him. He just clenched down, and held on for the ride.

\--

Ardyn held tight to his shoulders, fingers pressing against his slick skin. Cor had him braced hard between himself and the wall, and just the right angle to shove up into him. He had the other man where he wanted him, and where Ardyn wanted to be, and every time a quiet, desperate noise left his throat Cor fucked into him harder.

He could feel Ardyn trembling against him, scrambling as he tried to grab at something to hold onto, and Cor just held his throat tighter, closing his eyes, groaning as fucked into his tight, warm body.

He didn’t choke him nearly as hard as he had the last time but still hard enough, pinning him to the wall by his neck and squeezing, thumb pressed just beneath the edge of his jaw. He couldn’t have even spoken if he wanted to, his chest tight from arousal and the steam in the shower and the effort of holding Ardyn up and fucking him at the same time.

He pulled the other man tighter against him, biting at his collarbone again. He could feel himself nearing the edge already, he knew he wouldn’t last long, not with how close they were and good it was, and he panted against Ardyn’s skin. It crossed his mind, briefly, that a part of him wanted to ask permission, wanted to hear Ardyn telling him to come inside him as Cor pinned him and choked him, wanted to hear how much he wanted it but instead, he got out one strangled, desperate, “Please,” before he gasped, his entire body tensing, and came, twitching from it as he held him, and panting, eyes wide.

\--

Cor came apart in his arms like old silk, unravelling thread by thread. Ardyn just rode it out, wheezing for breath and _smiling_ , damn him, _smiling_. Cor was all heat and raw power and need, and Ardyn cupped the back of his neck, pressed a kiss to his temple. The angle, different, nailed his prostate on every gravity-fueled drop down, until his stomach was tight with pleasure and he was hitching in little moans, nails digging into Cor’s scalp.

When the other man begged him, Ardyn laughed, breathless, and then moaned as Cor tensed up and came balls-deep in him, jerking with the effort of it. “Yes,” Ardyn moaned, dragging the other man closer with his heels, and rode Cor’s orgasm out with his eyes shut and his face slack with pleasure, until the other man was slumping against him, and then Ardyn dragged up on the hair on the back of his neck to look down at those brilliant blue eyes, hazy and glassy with pleasure. Cor looked shattered and raw, and it was a look he wanted to see more.

“You have a job to finish,” he whispered, hoarse. Cor had mostly let go of his throat while coming, and Ardyn grabbed at his wrist, sucked on his fingers. “On your knees, Marshal.”

\--

Ardyn’s palm cupped the back of his neck, gentle lips pressed to his temple and he shuddered. He rolled his hips up against him as he rode out his orgasm, gasping against his skin. Ardyn’s fingers were in his hair, and Cor echoed the sound as Ardyn moaned his approval.

When he’d begun to relax, slipping into the ease of the afterglow, Ardyn dragged him up by his hair to look at him. Cor was panting, lips parted as he met the other man’s bright, wide eyes. “Yes,” he agreed when Ardyn told him he had a job to finish.

He watched, letting out a slow, shaky breath as Ardyn grabbed his wrist and sucked on his fingers. And then he said _that_ and if Cor hadn’t come already, he would have right then and there. Instead, he moaned, quiet and helpless.

Letting out a slow, trembling sigh, he nodded and gently slid his cock out of the other man, let him down onto his feet and, without any question as soon as he was certain Ardyn had his balance back, slumped down onto his knees on the wet tile. For a moment, his eyes landed on the other man’s hard, leaking cock, and then he looked up at him and met his eyes and all the breath went out of him again.

\--

Cor moaned for him, ragged and worn, and Ardyn smiled down at him, ungentle. Cor just watched him, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from exertion and the shower’s heat, before he slid out of him. Ardyn hissed, hung onto the back of his neck, and carefully balanced when Cor let him down. He was still bruisingly hard, and watching Cor fall to his knees before him was only making him harder. He could have done anything he wanted to Cor. He wanted to do so much to Cor.

Tangling his fingers in the other man’s short hair again as Cor looked up at him, helpless, Ardyn leaned back and let the wall take his weight rather than putting it on his shaky knees while his hole was still clenching and his balls were drawn up tight. Cor stared at his cock, right at eye-level, and then looked up at him, his lips parted.

Cor looked as ruined as Ardyn felt, his hair plastered to his skin, water in his eyelashes, his cheeks flushed. His eyes were so bright that Ardyn felt he could fall into them, and the raw, helpless look on his face was a power trip. Ardyn pulled him close, lip curled into a sneer, dug his nails into his scalp again. This was a reverse of the first time this had happened, Ardyn on his knees with his back to the wall and come on his tongue, and he thought that Cor looked better than he ever had, fucked-out and needy on his knees.

“Did I ever say you could stop fucking me?”

\--

Ardyn’s fingers tangled in his hair, dragging across his scalp and Cor knew he was all flushed, could feel the heat in his cheeks from the steam and the subsiding arousal and the embarrassment twisting inside him at how much he wanted this. He had to blink water out of his eyes as it ran down his forehead and alongside his nose, and he didn’t even care. Having Ardyn on his knees behind the diner had been one thing, but even then the other man had been in control of the situation. Now, Cor felt nothing less than completely at his mercy. Ardyn could have done anything to him and he would have let him without complaint.

“No,” he breathed in answer to the question. And he would have gladly fucked him with his cock if he could, but he was on his knees and his cock was softening again anyway, the rush of arousal fading to a slow, steady throb in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he pressed one hand to the base of the other man’s erection, all hard and red and leaking, and mouthed at the side, getting his other hand between Ardyn’s legs to twist his fingers up inside him again. He was all widened out now after being fucked on Cor’s cock, and he could feel his own come, sticky and warm, between his fingers.

He was exhausted and fucked out and more willing than he’d ever been as he got the head of Ardyn’s cock between his lips, licking the slit, tasting salt on his tongue, and breathing slow and steady through his nose.

\--

Cor did as he’d been told, and Ardyn spread his thighs to give the other man more room to work. It was almost too easy for Cor to fingerfuck him, his ass slick with blood and come, and Ardyn grunted at the feeling of his fingers, grabbed at his wrist to press his fingers forward until they were digging into his prostate and he was moaning, his voice reedy from how badly bruised his throat was. Pulling Cor closer, the other man’s mouth on the side and then the head of his cock so hot Ardyn felt weak at the knees, he made a wet noise, and inhaled a shaky breath.

His eyes were hot with tears, and he was glad that the shower was on. The fact that he’d cried the last two times while Cor had been fucking him to the point of incoherence was bad enough, but this wasn’t even as hard. Moaning louder, ragged, he pulled Cor closer and rode the fingers inside him to fuck into the other man’s hot throat, slack-jawed and needy. “Make me come,” he murmured, voice cracking on the words, “Just like that.”

\--

Ardyn grabbed his wrist, pressed his fingers up into him until he could feel himself brushing the other man’s prostate, and that made Ardyn moan beautifully, voice a little shaky, a little hoarse, and Cor flushed deeper.

The scent of him was hot and thick and warm and much less like swamp than it had been before, and Ardyn’s cock felt heavy on his tongue. Like many things, it had been ages since he’d had another man’s cock in his mouth and he relished it, urged on by Ardyn’s moaning. He could feel the pounding of Ardyn’s heart in his dick and it throbbed through him.

Cor groaned around him, taking more of Ardyn’s cock into his mouth, grabbing him around the base with one hand as he fucked into him with the other, pressing his fingertips up against his prostate each time. Ardyn’s hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, riding his fingers desperately, and each time he rocked onto them he slid further down Cor’s throat. Swallowing, tongue pressed against the underside, he closed his eyes and sucked on him, moaning soft and deep.

\--

He came apart embarrassingly fast. He’d been so close already from Cor fucking him, but pressure on his prostate left him sobbing, his toes curling into the floor, bucking forward into Cor’s throat. He felt broken-open and filthy and painfully on-edge, and it took very little more for him to double over, clutching Cor for dear life.

Ardyn came hard and sudden, his breath punched out of his chest, legs trembling, his ruined shout lost in the pound of the shower water. If Cor hadn’t been there he would have fallen over, too overwhelmed and overwrought. But still, it was a damn near thing, his breath a hitching wail, clawing against the other man for some kind of grounding. After he came, Ardyn shuddered, hard, tugged on Cor’s wrist to get the man’s fingers out of him, and leaned exhausted against the wall of the shower, gentling his earlier roughness in clawing Cor’s scalp by brushing his sopping hair off of his forehead.

He stared at the ceiling, and thought for a few moments about nothing at all.

\--

Ardyn sobbed above him, jerking against him, clutching at his hair, and came suddenly. Eyes wide with the force of it, Cor swallowed, hard, and pulled off his dick in time to avoid having to swallow all of it, coughing a few times and bracing himself on the other man’s thighs.

Ardyn was shouting, clinging to him, using him to balance himself and shuddering against him. Cor leaned towards him, forehead pressed against his hip to give him something to lean on, and pulled his fingers out of him when Ardyn jerked on his wrist.

Panting, he slumped against him as Ardyn leaned back against the wall. Still on his knees, he closed his eyes and pressed his face against the other man’s thigh, just breathing, with the feeling of the water pounding down on his back and the taste of the other man’s cock and come on his tongue. Ardyn’s hand brushed at his hair, gentle now, and Cor made a quiet sound of contentment. He really did not want to move. There, on his knees with Ardyn above him, in the small shower stall with the water running, nothing else seemed to matter. His mind was clear, and Ardyn was with him, and that was all he wanted.

\--

Cor barely pulled back in time to avoid Ardyn coming down his throat and choking him, and he laughed breathlessly. “Someone’s out of practice,” he murmured, hoarse, more amused by it than he should have been. Cor didn’t seem much interested in getting up, curled with his head and face tucked into Ardyn’s thigh. It was surprising, how much he liked the idea of Cor kneeling for him. Oh, if only he knew—

The water was starting to get cold.

Ardyn sighed. Reached up to push his sopping hair out of his face, looked down at Cor. “You have to get up. Unless you want to be in here when it gets icy; you’re welcome to it.”

\--

Cor just hummed at the comment. Out of practice, definitely, but he’d managed well enough. He stayed there for a while longer, until Ardyn mentioned that the water was getting cold, which it was. “No,” he admitted and, though a little reluctant, hauled himself to his feet again, using the wall as support, grunting at the effort.

The water, still a bit warm, pounded down on his shoulders, loosening all the tight muscle there, and he leaned in and kissed Ardyn gently on the lips, only nipping a little bit. He smiled and ran one hand through the other man’s sopping red hair. “Do you want help washing out the swamp smell? Or should I leave you be?”

\--

Cor finally stood up, and leaned into him, Ardyn tilting his face into the kiss. It was soft, but he couldn’t find it in him to turn it rough again. He liked just being able to kiss Cor for a minute and not care more about it than that. When Cor tangled fingers in his hair, so wet it was straight and brushing his shoulder blades with the bounce taken out of it, Ardyn sighed. “No, I’ll get it.” He wanted to just be done and on his way.

As much as Cor was a _lively_ distraction from his endgame, he still had too much to do to be bogged down here. He couldn’t stay.

\--

Ardyn titled up into the kiss, and it was… nice. He didn’t think too much of it, but it felt good. It made him happy, and he smiled a little.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He did take the motel soap and wash himself off briefly, just to get clean, and then passed it to Ardyn and stepped out, shivering and drying himself off on the tiny bathroom. Better that he go first and let Ardyn have as much space as he needed afterwards. He collected his trousers and underwear and stepped back out into the main room, sitting on the bed and dressing himself again while he waited for the other man.

\--

As soon as Cor vacated the shower Ardyn cleaned up quickly, and got out, dried off. He was tired of being wet. He missed a hair dryer already, and just scrubbed his hair off with a towel before he came out. He didn’t care if Cor saw him naked; Cor had seen it all already, and he just got dressed in the quiet of the camper, back to the other man.

“I am afraid,” he began at last, sliding on clean underwear as he squeezed water out of his hair, “That you may not see me again for some time. A Chancellor’s work, you know, is never done. I am being called to Altissia.”

\--

Ardyn came out of the shower soon enough and Cor watched him with vague interest as he scrubbed off his hair and dressed. He leaned back on the the lower bunk, folding his hands on his chest. He’d left his jacket off and thrown a shirt on since he didn’t imagine he’d be going anywhere, whether or not Ardyn did.

When the man spoke, Cor frowned a little. “Well,” he began slowly, “I didn’t expect to see you _this_ time. So that was a pleasant surprise.” It wasn’t like Ardyn to say something like that though. He thought Cor just assumed that he knew he might not see him for a week or more, which he did.

After a moment he said, “How long is ‘some time’?” He wasn’t all that surprised Ardyn was headed to Altissia as well, though, since Noctis would be and… there may still be a wedding. Or not. He wasn’t completely sure anymore.

\--

Cor seemed unsurprised as Ardyn shrugged his shirt back on, lifting his still-damp hair off of the back of his neck and shaking it out. As it dried more, it was starting to wave again, curling up against the nape of his neck, brushing his collar as he pulled his scarf back around his neck, glad for the extra warmth.

At Cor’s question, though, he paused, and wondered how best to answer. Finally, he let out a breath and bent over to pick up his trousers, putting them back on rather than speak. “It might be quite some time before I return to Lucis.” Saying the word burned his tongue, but he moved past it. After Altissia, if Lunafreya successfully summoned Leviathan, it would be—

Well.

He turned around, his best smile plastered to his face, and he looked down at Cor, sprawled boneless on the bunk, leaned against the bed above him. “Do try not to miss me _too_ much, Marshal. Some of us do still have jobs to do.”

\--

There was a long pause before Ardyn answered. Still, he was vague about it. That could mean anything. It could mean: a few weeks from now. It could mean: never.

Cor frowned, following the other man with his eyes as he walked over and smiled at him, leaning against the bunk. It wasn’t a real smile, either. He could tell those apart well enough by now. He was hiding… something. Or, more likely, many things. Wasn’t he always? Hadn’t he been from the beginning?

Cor narrowed his eyes, but there wasn’t much to be done for it. There was no easy way for him to say that he wished Ardyn would at least make an effort to be less vague, after all the time they’d spent together.

“I’ll try,” he said at last, and considered protesting that he had a job as well except that he… didn’t. Not really. Monica and Dustin were holed up in Caem babysitting Iris and Talcott and babysitting was not the kind of job that was up his alley. He wanted more than that. So, it was back to tracking Niffs and hunting daemons in the night.

“You’re leaving now? Then… safe travels.” That was the best he could think, to say.

\--

Cor narrowed his eyes, suspicious, and Ardyn just kept smiling at him. He’d rather that Cor had never learned how to tell when he was lying, but it was too late for that now. The man was a quick study; damn him. “Oh, I should warn you,” Ardyn continued, like he had not a care in the world, “Most of the army shall be coming with me. You and yours should have quite a fun time, free of our _interference_. I’m sure the remaining Crownsguard shall be happy to see the back of Niflheim.”

He hesitated then. There was a sour taste in his mouth—regret. One he thought he’d banished long before.

“You shan’t though,” he murmured, not breaking eye contact with the other man. Cor’s damn eyes. They saw right through him. Just like the last pair had. He couldn’t lie properly to eyes like that. “You’re going to miss Niflheim, crawling all over your lovely country. You’ll be _bored_ without my armies to crush.” Cor would be bored without Ardyn, but he didn’t say it. “Be careful, Marshal,” he warned, voice dropping. “Sentiment kills sure as steel.”

A lesson Ardyn knew better than perhaps anyone.

\--

The army would be going with him. Cor clenched his jaw. That… did not sound like a good thing, if it was true at all. He would see for himself soon enough but… why would Niflheim withdraw? He furrowed his brow, watching Ardyn’s face for some sign of the truth, and it wasn’t that Ardyn was hard to read. It was easy enough for Cor to tell when he was lying. It was the way he twisted those inevitable lies, the way he passed anything off like it was nothing.

So, he just listened and frowned and made a quiet, thoughtful, and vaguely annoyed sound. He would not mention it to Monica and Dustin. He would wait and see what happened.

At the note on sentiment, though, he relaxed back onto the bed, still watching him. “It’s too late for that,” he said. It was too late the first time they’d kissed, that afternoon behind the diner, too late the moment Cor pinned him to his driver’s side door and impaled him on his sword. The very moment Ardyn looked at him with those wide eyes from the hood of his car, it had been too late for him. He wasn’t going to try to deny that anymore. At least he knew he’d gotten himself into a relationship that could never be a relationship and he didn’t have his heart set on it. Wishing him well was just common courtesy.

He waved his hand. “Just go. I want to take a nap. I’m too tired for your word games. Just… find me again. When you can.”

\--

His heart felt heavy, and his chest tight. Cor looked at him like Ardyn brought the sun up in the morning; not the other way around. He’d finally gotten his King at last. Just not the one he had wanted.

Ardyn leaned forward, and grabbed his chin, held Cor still. Stared into those damn blue eyes. “You foolish boy,” he said at last, heartless and kind by half-measures. “You foolish, stupid boy. And after all those times I warned you, too.” _Sentiment_ —cruel, crueler by far than anything else. His affection for Cor would haunt him to his rapidly-approaching grave.

“The days are getting shorter.” Ardyn didn’t let his chin go, thumb pressed just under Cor’s full lower lip. He dug his nail in. “The nights grow longer. You couldn’t possibly be cold-blooded enough to leave all those people in Insomnia, could you? The terrors of the night will come for us all eventually, but even they don’t deserve that fate.”

His piece said, Ardyn let Cor go, and finished getting dressed. He took one last look over his shoulder, one last thorn for his side, and murmured, “Goodbye, Marshal.”

At least if there was one thing he’d only gotten better at as he’d gotten older, it was regrets.

\--

Ardyn grabbed his chin, held him still, and Cor met his eyes, scowling at him as he spoke. He knew it was foolish, he didn’t need Ardyn to tell him that. But, if Ardyn hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have found Cor all those times, would he? He wouldn’t have stayed. And so, they were both fools.

Cor growled quietly at him, hair bristling at the back of his neck. He heard what some were already saying about the days growing shorter, but Ardyn saying it like that made him wary, worried. Words caught in his throat as he tried to think, and finally Ardyn let him go and he pulled away, watching him with uncertain eyes.

He said nothing as Ardyn left, just let him go.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like that the Chancellor, who seemed to do as he pleased, was leaving suddenly, withdrawing his army, and warning him of shorter days. He didn’t like that he didn’t know if he would ever see him again, and the churning in his stomach that warned him something was very wrong. He didn’t like it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9278747) comes immediately next in the narrative timeline before chapter 6


	6. from now on we are enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course he knew Ardyn wasn’t going to leave. Cor wished he would. Cor wished he would just go, that he would never see him again. He didn’t want to have this fight. When he thought of Ardyn, he wanted to remember that they were happy together, for a little while. But that, like so many other things, was not to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [fall out boy's "'from now on we are enemies'"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5fzdGErHPY)

The world ending turned out to be…well, as much as he hated to say it, _anticlimactic_. Ardyn had been planning for it so long that when the world ended he just. Was almost bored. Noctis would be gone for only Bahamut knew how long, and in the meantime he would just have to sit there and make the best of it.

After all, he had a throne waiting for him in Insomnia. It was a whole new level of petty to sit on a vacant throne for ten years, but Ardyn had always been good at holding a grudge. Pettiness gave him the strength to wake up, when he deigned to sleep. But, in the endless darkness where Noctis was resting and the world was ending, he had other things to do as well.

Which was why he was currently sitting in Cor Leonis’ tiny one-bedroom apartment, sprawled on the man’s bed, taking a nap. Oh, Ardyn had no doubt that the Marshal had heard tales of Gralea by now, of what Ardyn had put those poor, innocent boys through, but he was a hopeless case.

So here he was. In the dark. Waiting for the axe—or, perhaps, better, the _katana_ —to fall.

\--

It was six months nearly, now, since they last saw the sun set over the horizon. That day the light had died for good.

He and the others had moved to Lestallum, only days prior. And when the daemons came out, and started to swarm the roads and the outposts, he and Monica and Dustin and Iris and any willing hunters they could find had driven back and forth between Lestallum, Hammerhead, Insomnia, and the other outposts, taking as many refugees as they could, getting them out. It was still an ongoing effort. There were a lot of refugees, and not as many hunters as he would have liked. Just barely enough for what they needed, to defend all those people.

The Crownsguard jacket meant something more, now. It meant safety, and he wore his sword at his hip always.

He was training Iris, too, and a handful of other civilians who wanted to learn. Her, though, most of all, and when the people were settled, he intended to leave the refugees to Dustin and Monica, to take Iris and spend their days warding off the daemons.

Ardyn, he thought of on the rare occasion. He tried to remember their days together fondly, though it was difficult ever since Ignis, Gladiolus, and Prompto returned. The boys told them everything, told them of Luna’s death, and Noctis, and the crystal, and Gralea. And Ardyn, and all that he’d done.

It wasn’t that Cor hadn’t expected it. He had. He’d always known Ardyn had more up his sleeve than what he pretended, always knew, in a way, that this would come to pass. That made it no easier to take, but there was something freeing about it, too. A truth, long hidden, had come to light. And as he had told himself on numerous occasions since that last evening in the camper together, those days were gone. He didn’t intend to see Ardyn again, and if he did, he tried not to think about what might would do.

And so, setting eyes on him for the first time in six months as he entered his apartment sent a shock all through him, like someone had come up behind and dumped ice water over his head. The room was small. He saw him the moment he opened the door and stepped in.

Then he stopped. Everything stopped. And he thought of the boys’ faces when they’d returned from Gralea. He thought of Ignis’s scars. He thought of Prompto, trying to be cheery, but always with a hint of pain in his voice. The people, who had lost everything. The daemons, in the endless night. And he thought, too much, of Ardyn’s softer smiles, and the way his hair felt, and the way he felt against him, and knew he couldn’t fall into that trap again.

Cor took a deep, slow breath, and closed the door behind him. Worst of all, he remembered his own words the last time they saw each other, _Find me again, when you can_ , and hated that part of him, that had let his guard down, that had let Ardyn in, that ever had thought they could have anything other than… nothing. He really was a fool.

Cor stared at him, too tired for this.

“Leave,” he said at last. He was breathing, slow and steady. He was calm, for now, but it wouldn’t last. “Leave, and never show yourself to me again. I want nothing to do with you, not anymore.”

\--

Cor, when he returned, did _not_ look happy to see him. His sword was properly at his side, too, and not just ready to Warp to hand. So, the King of Light had taken his magic with him, then, and left his people unprotected. Typical. He looked tired. For a moment, Ardyn felt hot regret like bile in his throat, but he continued like it wasn’t there. “Oh,” he said, pushing back his hat and smiling coyly up at the other man, “You don’t look happy to see me. Whyever could that be?” He knew why.

He wasn’t surprised to have Cor demanding he go. Ardyn sighed. “Oh, very well. I can see where I’m not wanted. I’ll just be on my way through the packed streets of Lestallum, where anyone could see me.” He paused, and then, as if the idea had just occurred to him, laughed. “Except, of course, poor young Scientia. So terrible, what happened to him. But I suppose he’s rather in the same boat as the rest of you are. Doesn’t hurt to be blind in the darkness.”

\--

Of course he knew Ardyn wasn’t going to leave. Cor wished he would. Cor wished he would just go, that he would never see him again. He didn’t want to have this fight. When he thought of Ardyn, he wanted to remember that they were happy together, for a little while. But that, like so many other things, was not to be.

Ardyn knew very well why Cor wasn’t happy to see him. He knew why Cor wanted him to leave, and he was still pulling the same shit he always did.

Cor clenched his jaw and marched over to him, grabbed him by the collar and slammed his fist hard into his cheek. “How dare you,” he growled, trying his best not to shout, but it was _hard_ , “come here, to my apartment, and do this to me? How dare you pull the same, fake act you always do, when you know what I’ve been through, and what they’ve been through, and you know that I know, and worse than that, you caused it! Scientia’s sight is gone because of you, Lunafreya is dead because of you, and Noctis is gone! And all those people, in Gralea,” he was still trying to control his breathing but it was getting harder, and harder, “And all the people in Lucis, all of them are dead or suffering, and you don’t even care. You don’t care about anything except yourself, and whatever the hell it is you’re after, and you dare come back here and talk to me like this and expect me to just welcome you back, to treat you like nothing ever happened, like I don’t _know_ what happened, after all that you’ve done?”

He balled his fist, almost punched him again. He wanted to, but he also didn’t. He wanted to beat the ever loving shit out of him, but more than that, he wanted Ardyn to do something, anything, to make Cor want to forgive him, despite it all. “Why won’t you just go crawling to someone else and leave me be.”

\--

Cor marched over, dragged Ardyn up off of the bed by his collar, and punched him clean in the jaw. “ _Excuse_ me,” he sputtered, looking hurt. Cor ran right over him though. In the time he’d known the Marshal, Cor had never been a talkative person; he had been taciturn almost to a fault, and now all he was _doing_ was talking. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to not be able to just talk his mouth off. “I never said I expected anything at all,” Ardyn growled, wrapping his fingers around Cor’s wrist to balance as the other man held him up off of the mattress. “I just thought you might want to know I was alive and well, in all this chaos.”

Ardyn looked at Cor. They were both pitiful, weren’t they?

“I like _you_ ,” he stubbornly stuck to his metaphorical guns. “You know, I can’t remember the last time someone punched me? It’s been. Oh, more than a lifetime, I’m sure. Noct did his best, you know, but he punched poor Prompto instead. I’m not so sure he ever apologised for that, come to think of it. Silly me, making him do that. I should have let him take it out on me.” Ardyn smiled. “But then again, you’re rather doing it for him now, aren’t you? You can count that one for Noct to make up for Prompto’s pretty face.”

\--

Cor didn’t even care anymore. Didn’t want to care. A part of him had always wanted to punch that smug grin off his face, anyway. He would have, the first time or two they met, if they hadn’t gotten wrapped up in other things, but he wasn’t going to let himself be drawn in again.

He almost was. There was a moment, when Ardyn said, that he just wanted Cor to know that he was all right. But of course he couldn’t stop there, and as he went on, Cor snarled at him, twisted his fingers into his collar, and punched him again. “Then that one is for Prompto,” he ground out, curled his fist and did it again. “And that one is for Ignis.” And again, and there would be blood on his knuckles and he couldn’t have cared less, “And that one is for me.”

At that, gasping for breath, adrenaline in his veins making his heart pound uncomfortably in his throat, he let Ardyn drop back down onto the bed and took a step back. “You can’t ever just say what you mean, can you? You can’t ever tell the truth. It’s all been lies, anything we ever had was a lie and I knew it and I didn’t care. But it’s different now. And what about the Starscourge? I know that was your doing, too.” He pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I don’t know how, but I know it was, and that, most of all, I can never forgive you for.”

He stared at him, angrier than he’d ever been. Angry at Ardyn, and angry at himself for letting whatever false relationship they had even get that far in the first place. Despite all the warnings, he’d let himself have it, and he’d never regretted anything so much. Ardyn had never cared about him at all and he never, ever would.

“Just tell me whatever other lies or half-truths you came here for and leave me alone for good. I’m finished being haunted by you.”

\--

By the fourth time Cor punched him, Ardyn’s lower lip was split and a tooth was loose in his mouth, his cheek and jaw scraped raw. There would be blood on both of them, and he smiled at the other man as the blood leaked between his teeth onto his lips.

Oh, if only Cor knew what he really looked like, under all his illusions and second skins.

“For you?” Ardyn asked, his mouth aching, his enunciation off. “And here I thought you’d already gotten out all that violent sexual tension that time you killed me. You just can’t get enough, can you, Cor?” When the other man tossed him back to the bed, Ardyn dusted himself off like nothing had happened and wiped his bleeding mouth off on a handkerchief, fixed his hat. “Well, you are right on that account.” Ardyn laughed. “I rather like the darkness. Lots you can do in the dark that the light frowns upon.” As he said it, he dragged one finger up Cor’s chest from the hem of his shirt over his navel to the collar, and when he got to the top he curled his hand into a fist, fingers tangled into the cloth, and dragged the other man over to kiss him, hard, on his half-open lips, noses mashed inelegantly together, chest to chest.

He kissed Cor until his lips ached, and then pulled back, winked.

“I just wanted to let you know that our dear, dear Noct is perfectly safe and sound. You’ve nothing to worry about. I never laid so much as a _finger_ on the poor boy. Never once touched him.” He booped Cor on the nose, too-gently, and then swept his hat off in an elegant half-bow. “So no need to mourn just yet, Marshal. Time and time alone shall return him to you.” He waved his hat jauntily. “I shall bid you adieu, then.”

The cat was, of course, out of the bag. So Ardyn cut through time, and warped happily away back to the ruins of Insomnia, his lips still aching and his face still tingling.

His smile didn’t last, though.

He spat the loose tooth onto the ground, and knew it would be back before too long.

\--

Cor tried to control himself. He did not draw his weapon. He did not punch him again, though his hand was still curled tight into a fist. He would not strangle him to death. He was panting, after getting all that out, and it was enough. He would not be baited.

Ardyn fixed himself, wiped his face off, and gently dragged one finger up Cor’s chest. Cor watched him and found himself frozen, struggling, unsure how to react, and then Ardyn grabbed him, dragged him over and kissed him. It was so much like the kisses they used to have, but this one tasted even more of blood and regret. Cor remained tense, but he did not pull away, winded and angry and confused, and when Ardyn let him go, he stumbled back, put his hand on the hilt of his sword in case the other man tried to approach him again, and snarled at him.

Ardyn was going on about Noctis again, as if they’d never really moved past those few times Ardyn showed up just to tell him what the King was doing, just to reel him in closer. “You really think,” he spat, “I’ll ever believe _anything_ you say? You think you can get anywhere by coming here and kissing me and giving me that fake smile?” But the other man was already tipping his hat and, in a sudden flash, disappeared.

“I hope you rot!” Cor shouted into the air after him, as if he would hear it. “Never come back here!” He drew the first few inches of his sword and stayed, crouched there for a long moment, looking warily around the room.

“Marshal!” Iris’s voice made him straighten, relax, and he turned as she cautiously entered. “Is everything all right? I was going to knock but… I heard shouting and…”

“I’m.... fine,” he said, letting out a slow breath to calm himself down and quickly wiping his sleeve across his face to get off any bloodstains left there. “Fine. I thought I saw something, that was all. I’m just…”

“Tired?” she said, nodding, understanding. “We all are. Come on,” she motioned to him. “Monica has news for us.” He’d never been more grateful to hear those words. A few distractions, and maybe he could manage to put that meeting and Ardyn, at last, behind him.

\--

Ardyn had lived a very long time. And in that time, he’d never really let his spite come full-circle.

That first day, in that first year, that he climbed the steps to the throne in Insomnia, he had felt true triumph for the first time in many long years. He had just stood there the first few days, unmoving as hours passed into days without sunrise or sunset, hand on the arm of the throne. Two thousand years, he had been denied his title and crown, two thousand years he had not sat on the throne that was rightfully his. And here it was, waiting for him.

The many years had changed the citadel, but it was still the very spot he had built it. All those lifetimes ago.

Eventually, he had eased his old, tired body down into the chair, his legs stretched before him, blood on the flagstones, his chin on his fist. It was not a comfortable throne. It never had been. But there, in that empty dead city atop the bones of hundreds of generations, surrounded by the ghosts of those who had died in pursuit of some empty dream, while outside the daemons kept alive by his blood and body raged, he felt strangely at peace.

For the first time in eons beyond counting, far beyond the lifetime of man, he closed his eyes.

And, for three years, Ardyn Lucis Caelum dreamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9351344) comes immediately next in the narrative timeline before chapter 7


	7. your secret's out and the best part is it isn't even a good one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ardyn,” he spat at last, “I would have followed you, if you’d let me, back then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [fall out boy's "get busy living or get busy dying"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jQp3rPW80Q) (and all of the lyrics are so ridiculously relevant it makes me upset)

When Ardyn came to him in his apartment room, he’d intended that to be their last meeting. He’d put the man far behind him for three long years, and turned to other matters. Settling the refugees, training Iris, hunting daemons.

But, interest piqued by those few who still trickled in from Insomnia, Ignis (with Talcott’s help) had gone and dug around and found ancient records. Most of it were pieces of the legend they already knew, but contained in those documents was one important fact. The first King of Light’s name had been Ardyn Lucis Caelum. And between that and what they already knew from the old stories, it had all come together, piece by piece. And it wasn’t so much the questions, this time, as the answers, that drove him, for once, to find Ardyn, instead of the other way around.

It was a long road from Lestallum to Insomnia. He lost count of the hours as he drove on his motorcycle, only stopping briefly in Hammerhead to rest and get gas before he continued on. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going. He told Cindy it was for a hunt. Monica would assume the same, or that he just wanted to be alone. It wasn’t unusual, for him to take Iris and disappear for a few days. This was no different. Except, a part of him wasn’t sure if he would be coming back this time. It depended on how it all played out.

The first year, he’d been back and forth to Insomnia plenty of times. This time, when he crossed the bridge and passed through the city gates, it was different. So much different.

The city was a wasteland, like so many of the other outposts were soon becoming, a hunting ground for daemons. He slayed a few as he entered, keeping his sword drawn. His coat was of a longer fashion, now, one of the new ones he and the others had made, a thicker armor to protect them. He’d gained a few new scars since his last trip to Insomnia, too, from daemon claws and fangs. But these, only settling in the city in the past year or so, were mostly lower class daemons. He did spy a few larger, more intimidating ones, but he was able to successfully stay out of their path, keeping to the edges of the streets and ditching his motorcycle at a certain point in favor of taking the route through the underground to the Citadel.

At last, daemons slain and lain to rest behind him, he sheathed his sword and stared down towards the Citadel’s courtyard.

Even when when he’d scoured the city on his previous trips, even when he’d been helping the refugees escape, he… had never come here, to this place. And seeing it now, in the dark of the everlasting night, a shudder ran all through him. So many years he’d spent, with the Citadel as his home. Walking its halls, serving his King. And on that last day, running, as everything shattered into a million pieces, taking Iris by the hand, bringing her to safety as his last proper act as Marshal of the Crownsguard.

Now, he supposed, strangely enough, this was home to a new King. The King of Night, who he had found so beautiful. The King who he had almost loved.

Marching forward, he threw open the doors and made his way to the throne room. It was all quiet now, the stairs on one side crumbled, the roof collapsing in. And there, seated, he was. He looked… peaceful. His eyes were closed, asleep. And Cor, despite laying his eyes on the man who had caused them all so much pain, felt strangely calm. Calm, but with anger bubbling below the surface. The dangerous sort of calm.

He drew his sword, blinked, and Warp-striked, using the little magic that the magitek that Aranea had brought from Gralea gifted them, hardly a shadow of what he’d had from Regis and Noctis before.

\--

He woke up to a sword through his chest. It wasn’t, sadly, the first time.

For a moment Ardyn was confused and alarmed, trying to place himself. He’d lost more time before, certainly, but he wasn’t at all sure where he was until he finally looked around, coughing blood, and placed the throne room of the citadel, the blade through his chest as the Kotetsu, in the hands of Cor Leonis.

He coughed blood again, giggling as he spat it between his teeth, and slumped for a moment before he looked up at the other man. Cor’s face was twisted in a rictus of rage, and Ardyn laughed a second time as he wrapped one hand uncaring around the man’s blade just before his chest, pulled it closer until the point of the sword pierced right out his back, scraping the red silk of the Lucian throne.

“Kingslayer now, are you, Marshal?” Ardyn smiled beatifically up at Cor, pulled him closer until he leaned forward and the tsuba of the katana hilt was pressed flush against his chest. “I thought you’d learned last time, something as pesky as a sword through the chest only hurts my feelings. Besides—didn’t you ever learn that it’s _rude_ to wake someone up when they’re sleeping? I certainly hope you have a good excuse for it.”

\--

Ardyn woke up. He looked startled at first, coughing blood. Cor stayed where he was, still as stone, leaning over the other man, one foot balancing on the throne, sword through his chest. When their eyes met, Cor scowled at him, watching in slowly building rage as Ardyn grabbed the blade, pulled it closer until he felt it pierce his back, then further, until the hilt was against his chest, and Cor was leaning in close to him.

“I know who you are,” he ground out. “I know _what_ you are. And I had to come back, now that I know the truth.” He wanted to ask why. He wanted to ask, whether Ardyn’s mind was so far gone, whether he even had the capacity to tell the truth, to care about anything other than himself, or whether he was just a monster, like the daemons in the courtyard. Instead, he curled his lip and said, “You sit on my King’s throne.” He twisted the sword in his chest. “Face me, Ardyn Lucis Caelum. _Fight me_.”

\--

They were so close together that if Ardyn had spit, he wouldn’t have been able to miss Cor’s face if he had tried. “Then you know this is a pointless exercise,” Ardyn shot back, as Cor twisted the blade in his chest, the steel grating against his ribs. “All you’re doing is making a mess.”

At the threat of fighting, Ardyn threw his head back and burst into full-throated laughter, despite his pierced chest, heart, and lung. He smirked at Cor. “No.”

\--

Cor breathed. He knew it was pointless. He was asking for closure and for proof and to convince himself that he was still loyal to Noctis when he’d wavered so much and because… because he couldn’t bring himself to ask the things he truly wanted to, afraid of the answers.

Ardyn laughed and Cor scowled at him, wrenched his sword from the other man’s breast. It was covered in blood. At that single word, the refusal to accept his challenge, Cor drove the Kotetsu straight through his throat, in a single, clean cut.

\--

Cor scowled as he wrenched his blade out of Ardyn’s gut, Ardyn sliding forward from the throne, unbalanced by the force of it. He barely had time to straighten before Cor reversed his swing and in a single, clean motion, took Ardyn’s head from his shoulders.

Being decapitated was always awful. The disassociation was wrenching; his mind still alive and thinking his body was there despite it being disconnected, sitting below him. He felt violently ill, and then his head wrenched back onto his shoulders with a vertigionous spin and a cloud of shadow, black blood spilling out as his neck reknit itself, skin and muscle and veins and vertebrae. “That,” Ardyn snarled, hands clawed into the arms of the throne, “Was _uncalled_ for.”

\--

He knew the strike would not kill him, but still, it was almost shocking to see it happen, to watch his blade slice through his neck, the black blood spilling out, and the way his entire head reknit itself so cleanly a moment later. If he hadn’t known it was coming, if he hadn’t planned on it, he might have been afraid, but he’d killed him once before, so, so long ago, though back then he hadn’t known what to believe.

“Then face me,” Cor repeated, lifting his sword again. “ _Fight back_. Strike me _down_. Do it!” He snarled the words, and struck again, spinning his sword and cleaving him down through the shoulder and chest and straight through his heart, and when he knit back together again, beheaded him a second time, and then Warped back, sword dug into the stone of one of the pillars near the entrance to the room. Eyeing the man, he flung his katana back, Warping towards him again, straight for his head.

\--

It was like that day at the crystal all over again, but Noctis’ little friends had only managed to kill him once. Contrary to popular belief, it was painful—horribly painful—to die. Even two thousand years hadn’t dulled that; and he felt it just as much this time as every other time. So four times in a row left him furious, his heart pounding in his ears, his body sore and his throat _aching_ , his chest a single burning line of pain, and when Cor Warped backwards to get space to fly toward him again—

His patience, so long, finally snapped. To him, Cor’s warp was as clumsy and unpracticed as a child, who had just learned the skill. Frankly, Ardyn was astonished he could even do it. With Noctis locked in the crystal, he had assumed Lucian magic had gone with him. Cor was bleeding out of the Warp all over the place, telegraphing his aim with the nod of his head and the lay of his eyes, the position of his hand. To Ardyn, time was just _slower_ , and faster aye, that standing, his clothes stirred by the force of Cor’s Warp, he was able to lazily raise a single hand.

It had been lifetimes. Lifetimes and more, since he’d held his blade in hand, the sword heavy but fit as well to his palm as his own fingers. His weapon, summoned to him, launched into being with the sound of shattering glass, and Cor struck it blade-first as fruitlessly as hitting stone.

Ardyn smiled at the other man, and effortlessly threw him sideways, tossing the Marshal out the side window of the throne room.

\--

One moment, Cor was Warp-striking towards him and the next, Ardyn had lifted his hand, summoned a sword. Their blades clashed with the heavy ringing sound of steel on steel, and then Cor was thrown, effortlessly, like he was no more than a small child and not a full grown man. He went flying across the room, his back smashing through the glass of the window, and he cried out as the some of the shards cut their way through his skin in places where the uniform did not protect him.

Launched out into the cool night air, he spun himself, thinking fast, and threw his blade down towards the concrete, Warp-striking to follow it, the magitek harder on his body than the magic had ever been. His body slammed into the ground, following his sword, and he rolled onto his back, the breath knocked out of him. Grabbing the hilt, he was up a moment later, the uniform having protected him from the worst of the fall, and he spread his feet and watched the broken window, jaw clenched, sword ready.

\--

Ardyn did not for a moment doubt that Cor would land safely. After a single human lifetime spent entirely at war, he was about as resilient as a mortal man could be. But, still, he followed, throwing his own weapon to the concrete far below and Warping after it, reappearing just a few feet from the other man. Cor looked out of breath, the Kotetsu clenched in hand. “I can see why they call you the Immortal,” Ardyn said, his sword reappearing back to him, as he spun his wrist to loosen it. “You are _quite_ good at evading death. Why, one would think you have no wish to meet Shiva’s hand!” Ardyn giggled. “I can confirm for you, she is very beautiful, and gentle as a spring breeze.”

But then again, Cor had never seemed interested in women. Ardyn just looked down his nose at the other man, his sword loose by his side. “But then again, perhaps not. I cannot think she’d be happy to see me again so soon, so you had best remain alive. I can’t be inconveniencing our dear, dear Astrals.”

\--

Ardyn came after him moments later, Warp-striking out into the courtyard after him. They were only a few feet apart, and Cor breathed, slow and steady, watching him carefully. As soon as the man started speaking, Cor clenched his jaw tighter, curled his lip.

The truth was, too much of him would have been happy to die by Ardyn’s hand. He hadn’t come there originally for that purpose… not intentionally. But. At least his death would put an end to all of this. The endless emotional struggle. Their fighting. His guilt, his pain.

Iris was strong enough to take up his job on her own, the others would be fine without him. And he would leave the rest to Noctis.

Before Ardyn even finished, Cor dove at him again, sweeping his blade in a clean, smooth strike. “Is that the only reason?” he ground out as their blades clashed. “Is that really the only reason you won’t just kill me and be done with it? I know you could. I know you have the power to defeat me.”

\--

Cor threw himself forward, and again, Ardyn blocked him effortlessly, tossed him back, one hand cocked on his hip. “What would be the point?” Ardyn laughed. “What would I gain from killing you, Cor? You can’t hurt me. You can’t even strike me without my guard down.” Ardyn laughed in his face, spite on his lips. “I won’t kill an unarmed man, Cor, and that’s all you are to me.” Unarmed and helpless.

When he fought Noctis, as he was sure he must, Ardyn did not truthfully know what he would do. He would likely just lay down his arms, let the boy-king run him through.

Death was so close, he could taste it.

Ardyn dropped his sword, let it Warp away from him and back into the air once more, spread his empty hands. “For the love I bore you once, Cor, I shan’t be a willing accomplice to your suicide. Go elsewhere if you want Shiva’s embrace. I won’t give you the satisfaction of forcing my hand.” His patience lost, his temper held, and looked at the other man, his face twisting after a moment into a sneer. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, I’m not a _monster_ in here. You do not get to pick and choose the luxury of when and where you want me to be the heartless Accursed and when you want me to be a _man_.” Like everyone else always had, Astral and man alike. Cor hadn’t, when they had met. And now, of course, when he knew—he did. Ardyn didn’t know why he’d ever, even for a moment, thought that it could be different.

\--

Ardyn blocked him without even trying, the way Cor blocked the civilians he trained when they were starting out. Effortless. Still, Cor threw himself at him again, expecting the block, expecting to be forced back each time and yet, he kept going, driven on by sheer stubbornness, by his desire for something he couldn’t quite put a name to. Death, yes, though it was becoming increasingly clear that Ardyn would not kill him, and as the other man spoke, for the first time ever, Cor could feel the honesty in his voice, and it hurt. His heart ached.

Still, he pressed on, still, he struck at him, though each one grew weaker. He barely even had the heart to fight anymore. Ardyn, or anything else. He’d stayed strong for long, survived so much. And Ardyn, twenty times over the amount he had. He knew he couldn’t compare, but it didn’t help how much it hurt.

“I only ever wanted,” he said, slamming their blades together again, panting quietly, “the truth. And when I had it,” he shook his head. He was too on edge, too angry and heartbroken to put it all into words. But to look in his eyes and see that Ardyn was not the monster everyone made him out to be, to remember that look, to know that Ardyn would not kill him despite how heartless he seemed, that meant everything to him. To know that those few days they’d shared together, days he’d felt alive for the first time in years, were not a lie, _that_ was what he’d wanted. Knowing that, he could let himself die in peace.

“Ardyn,” he spat at last, “I would have followed you, if you’d let me, back then.” He shook his head again. It was too late for that now. “And if you won’t kill me now, some other beast will.” Better that than to live with so many dead and left behind in his shadow. Better that than to continue to live when he felt empty inside.

\--

“You didn’t.” Ardyn spat. “You’ve no idea the number of times someone has said that to me. To want the truth is a heavy burden to bear, Marshal. Better you look in the mirror and not see the monster.”

Cor looked defeated and dispirited, barely staying on his feet. Ardyn wished he had it left in him to still feel some empathy, but that he had lost first, all those long years ago. When Cor spoke again, though, Ardyn had to turn away, not able to look the man in the eyes with—that. His chest hurt, and it wasn’t from being run through. It was his heart.

“You don’t want that.” His voice shook. His eyes burned. “You don’t mean that. Don’t— _lie_ to me, Cor.” As if Ardyn ever did anything that wasn’t lying, ever let the truth slip his lips. He had trusted Cor. Trusted him, stupidly, foolishly, because Cor had trusted _him_. The worst part was that he still trusted Cor.

He knew it wasn’t a lie.

He knew that, if he had just told one more half-truth and one less half-lie, that Cor would be standing at his side, fallen and shattered and wanting, and Ardyn wouldn’t be. Alone.

“Just go.” His voice was dead in his throat, his nails digging into his palms through the leather of his gloves, and Ardyn pressed a hand over his mouth. “Please...just go. You’ll do no good here.” His laugh was spiteful and acidic in his throat. “You’re far, far too late to save me. Lifetimes. Eons. I don’t know why you bothered to try.”

\--

Ardyn looked away. Cor scowled at him. “I did,” he said, “want that.” His chest heaved from the effort and the emotion, voice grating. He felt like his heart was caught in his throat. “More than anything.” He wanted Ardyn to look at him, to acknowledge him, to understand that it was the truth.

He would have done anything for him, back then.

He stepped away, sword still tight in his hand, but relaxed at his side. Ardyn sounded different now than he ever had before. Hurt. Angry. Heartbroken, too, just like Cor.

And Cor watched him for a long moment, “I wish...,” he tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come. He wished too many things. Backing up further, he sheathed his sword and turned. He forced himself to look away, to walk out of the courtyard. There was a half-built sob pressing at the back of his throat, trying to work its way out, and he swallowed it down. He wanted to kneel down and lay on the pavement and never get up, because what even was the point of it all anymore? No one cared about him. He couldn’t do anything for Ardyn, couldn’t do anything for anyone.

But he forced himself to walk. He forced himself to move into the city streets, now mostly quiet after he’d killed so many daemons on his way in. He’d been filled with anger and a desperate need for closure. And now he had it, and he didn’t feel any better. He just felt empty.

Cor made his way back through the underground and out the other side. His motorcycle was there, a few paces away, where he’d left it. And, looming directly over it, one of the enormous daemons he’d seen and so carefully avoided on his way in.

He stared up at it. A creature like that normally would have been assigned to four or more hunters of incredible skill. But there it was, and there he was, and Cor stared it down and drew his sword.

It would be a fitting ending.

The daemon turned towards him, lifted its claws, and Cor threw his sword and did a Warp strike, circling around, slashing at its tail, coming towards it from its blindside. He struck and struck, beating at its legs, making it hiss in pain, slicing through its underbelly. But when he tried to Warp strike again, his body sluggish and low to react from how thin he’d pulled himself, it lifted one claw and slammed him out of the air.

He hit the ground hard, all the wind knocked out of him, and before he could struggle to his feet, the monster was on him again. It stabbed at him with its claws and he just barely rolled away from it, the edge of one claw slicing straight through his side, tearing at the uniform, and he cried out as the pain rippled like fire up all through him.

Gasping, he pressed one hand to the wound, forced himself onto his hands and knees, but he didn’t even see the tail coming until it was too late and it slammed into him, throwing him across the pavement. His sword flung from his grip, skidded across the road, and he knocked the back of his head hard when he hit the ground, sending him reeling.

Cor gasped, lifting himself up onto his elbows and rolling onto his side, and that small movement alone drained him. He felt sick and exhausted and his entire body resisted the instincts screaming at him to get up. After fighting Ardyn, after the words they’d exchanged, he knew he was fighting at a fraction of his usual strength, of his usual will. He was seeing stars, he stared up at that daemon and its claws, raised threateningly. It was starting to blur a little, and the wound stung.

This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? He’d wanted, so badly, to die. But as the daemon screeched in fury above him, he almost felt afraid, and he closed his eyes, coughing, and tried to think that soon, the pain in his side and the spinning in his head wouldn’t matter, and the daemon looming over him wouldn’t matter anymore. Ardyn wouldn’t matter. None of it would.

He’d wanted an end, and he’d been given one.

\--

He heard Cor speak and walk away, and Ardyn for a long time could not bring himself to move. He felt—awful. Him, all mistakes and regret, and Cor, who had so much _potential_. It would have been better, he knew, if he had never opened his mouth, never reached out to the man, never. Done any of this.

After he had stood there until there was no point, Ardyn straightened, dragged his fingers through his hair, and breathed slowly out, pinched the bridge of his nose. Any satisfaction he might have gotten for turning Cor to his side was soured by the knowledge that the man would have been following something far more, far worse, than what he thought he was getting. Even if he could easily imagine Cor kneeling at his feet. Because Cor had.

It was a fruitless exercise. He was only going to waste his time and hurt himself, so he had to just...let it go. Straightening, Ardyn was about to return to the throne room, to brood and sulk, when he heard the sounds of fighting on the streets, far away. He turned, frozen, his heart in his throat

“Cor,” he whispered, and teleported.

 

He found the man fighting a daemon thrice, four times, his size. Weak and exhausted, broken-hearted, the Marshal was barely trying to fight back. Ardyn saw more of himself than he wanted in those half-hearted gestures at defence, and for perhaps moments too long he was frozen with indecision, seeing Cor struggle to even do something as simple as defend himself. But, when the other man was disarmed, his sword thrown to the pavement before he was tossed like a rag doll to lay in a heap, Ardyn’s heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, and he didn’t think. Just summoned his sword to hand, Warped to just before the other man and—

The shatter of glass was loud in the empty dead silence of Insomnia’s abandoned streets. The daemon screeched and raised a paw, but Ardyn caught it in midair as the Armiger responded to him, swirling around him as he levitated a half a dozen feet off of the ground, body and blades glowing the red of fresh-spilled blood. His teeth were grit with the force of having to hold off the daemon’s strike, the blades vibrating and trembling as they coalesced into solidity and out of crystalline light, but he finally pushed through and threw the monster back, the thing stumbling.

Ardyn threw himself forward, and let the Armiger dissipate as he landed on the ground, and took two steps closer to set his hand on the daemon’s neck. For a moment, nothing happened, and all he could feel was flesh and chill and the pulse of the Beyond that gave the thing life, and then light began to spiral out between his fingers and he _pulled_ and there was a voice—

_Please I didn’t mean to you don’t have to do that to her I was only trying to help I wish I had never been born if I hadn’t been born father wouldstill and we wouldstill and mother wouldstill and donthitherdonthitherdonthithermoTHERNOMOTHERNO—_

Ardyn screamed as the daemon’s soul hit him full-force, launching into his body as had so many others. He stumbled, as the words pounded back and forth between his temples, ichor exploding into the air and coalescing into his body, the creature gone, and in the space of the daemon hung a little girl, no more than ten. She swayed, her toes scraping the ground, and Ardyn barely caught her on one arm before she crumpled to the pavement, slowing her descent just enough that she didn’t strike her head, laying still as she was.

Then, he took a half-step, weaving like a drunk, and hit the tarmac hard on his knees, leaning forward as he wretched black bile out of his open mouth. His head hurt like a lance had been driven through his skull between his temples, and the voices in his _head_ were _screaming_ , clamouring against his ears like the beat of a drum inside him, his vision blacked out and black tears leaking from his eyes. He doubled over, caught himself on one hand, and wretched again as the migraine built to full train-screaming static force, sobbing at the pain of it. The hand that had touched the daemon burned like it was aflame, black bile dripping from his nail beds, the bones all aching like they’d been snapped and instantly reformed from nothing but slivers and dust.

The spot on his chest where, so long ago, the thirteen pieces of the Armiger had pierced him one by one, was split-open and yawning with anguish. He fell back to his knees, slumped to his haunches, and a weak, muffled scream built in his throat as he pressed a hand to the pain in his chest that was breaking his sternum in, trying to crack him in half.

He stared sightlessly up into the empty darkness of the night sky, and cried, nails digging into his chest through his shirt as the burst of pain of the healing receded, and left in its white-hot supernova wake a migraine and a low, pulsing throb that beat with his heart in the wound in his chest, passed through him. It was all he could do to breathe. To stay upright. To hide his face, to not let Cor see what he looked like without his illusions shattered to pieces by what he had done. He wanted to _sleep_ , to rest, to close his eyes and lay down. Just for a little while. Just for a time.

He just wanted to stop.

\--

Cor closed his eyes, but the death blow never came. Instead, there was a sound like shattering glass, the daemon’s screech, and he opened his eyes again, vision blurry. At first, all he could make out was a red glow. But then, he saw the man it surrounded, his hair whipping around him, and circling him, the weapons, the Armiger.

“Ardyn,” Cor gasped, eyes suddenly wide. He pushed himself up on one elbow as he watched. Like that, levitating high above him, surrounded by raw power and magic, he was beautiful. Cor felt his heart thud in his chest, felt himself flush as he watched Ardyn throw off the daemon’s strikes, fending it off, pushing it back, away from him. _For him._

When Ardyn finally landed, settling beside the creature, Cor fell back onto the pavement. He pressed his face into his hand, wheezing hard in pain, watching out the corner of one eye as Ardyn did… something. There were flashes of light and Ardyn was screaming as the massive creature warped and transformed until eventually, it all fell away, leaving behind a little girl.

Cor couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stare. He was panting, and he rolled onto his chest, digging his fingers into his side near the wound. Ardyn swayed, suddenly, collapsed onto his knees, and Cor, struggling, pushed himself up on one arm, gasping as he tried to get his eyes to focus, to steady himself, but he couldn’t. “Ardyn!” he shouted. His entire body was screaming at him to lie down but his heart ached to crawl to Ardyn, to do… something.

Ardyn had saved him. Saved his life, and that image of him, floating, the red glow of the Armiger all around him… he couldn’t shake it. Ardyn had _saved_ him.

Cor struggled to get up again, wheezing in pain, from the wound in his side and the pounding in his head and the way the world was spinning when he moved too quickly. He could see Ardyn, crouched, with his back turned and tried to drag himself closer.

“Ardyn,” he called to him again, voice grating. There was too much emotion welling up in his throat, and he choked on it. “You came after me.” He let himself back down onto the pavement, worn out. Even after he’d killed Ardyn all those times, shouted at him, fought with him, angry about the lies, the deaths, the darkness. Even after all of that, when Ardyn had every reason to hate him, when Ardyn should have wanted him dead, he’d come. He’d come and quelled the daemon.

Cor felt woozy from the shock and the bleeding, but he managed to get up on his hands and knees, to crawl a little closer. “Why?”

\--

He was crying. Hot, black tears leaked down his cheeks, and Ardyn unceremoniously finished emptying his stomach, shaking all over with chills. He grabbed the scarf around his collar and dragged it up with trembling hands to wipe bile and tears from his face as he fought through the cold-sweats and nausea. It had been well over three hundred years since he’d done that—it was only getting worse, every time. He was surprised he could even do it at all any more. He couldn’t have done it to a human; the backfire from all the daemons that filled him would have killed them. It was just those fully changed he could save, now. He couldn’t even save himself.

The Astrals had long ago meant for their powers to go to another, had meant for him to live his long centuries in seclusion in Angelgard, shunned by man on the road, without anything to protect himr. In this, as in many things, he had sent their plans awry.

He heard Cor shift on the tarmac behind him, his voice hoarse and his throat raw as he spoke, calling out for him. “I’ll live,” he said it like it wasn’t obvious fact, like he hadn’t survived everything else and would survive this agony too. When he heard Cor take a half-step forward on his hands and knees, Ardyn shook his head, hung down with his hair in his face. “Don’t—don’t.” He took in a shaking breath, tried to push back his tears.

Cor couldn’t see him like this.

Ardyn sat there for what felt like a very long time, his face pressed into his hands as he fought through the pain and the screaming in his skull, until his jaw wasn’t locked and the migraine wasn’t tearing his soul in half. When he spoke, it came out ragged from throwing up so many times, and he had to lick his lips to speak easier. “Do you really think I asked for this?” He said at last, words shaking in his mouth. “Do you really think I stood up there and said, _make me like this_?” He shook, hard, all over, his voice cracking with anger and anguish. “I asked to save my people, Cor! I begged and pleaded, I traded myself, I said to the Astrals, _let me save them!_ Let me bring them peace, let me _end_ this!” His laugh was like fire and magma in his throat. “Be careful what you wish for, Marshal! Be careful what you beg for!” He struggled to stand up, and waved dangerously on his feet before he summoned his sword to hand and leaned heavily on it, letting the blade take his weight.

The stars were dark.

They had been dark to him for so, so long.

“All I wanted was peace. And for everything I gave up they just…took more. My body, my mind, my soul. They took my kingdom and my crown, they took my family, they took my _humanity_ , Cor. I lost _everything_ ,” he spat the word, like it burned his lips, wiped his face off again as black tears streaked down his cheeks, tried to find the strength to gather together his illusion again. “I gave it all up willingly. I would do it all again. And they hated me. Called me Accursed, Usurper, Abomination….Monster. Crowned their so-called King of Light. Would have me make a martyr of a boy hardly old enough to marry let alone—die!”

His composure was shreds, tatters in the wind, and Ardyn gathered it together in his fist, enough to hide his face, the ruin of his eyes and mouth, and swayed dangerously as he turned back around to look at Cor collapsed on the ground, staring up at him with those blue eyes. Those _damn_ blue eyes.

“He had eyes like yours,” Ardyn whispered, his voice cracking. His hair was sticking to his face with tears and sweat. “Just like yours. He used to look at me like you do. Like I could—like I was still worth something. But he took it from me, Cor. To know that for my _hubris_ to beg for relief, I must become the harbinger of the very thing I hated, I fought against, I did my best to—”

He had to take in a few shaking breaths.

“I never asked for this,” he repeated finally, voice thick with tears. “Ardyn Lucis Caelum.” He laughed, pained, shook his head. “What a joke. How fitting, don’t you think, to be cast aside by the very people you did _this_ to save, to become the very thing you fought. The Astrals _failed_ , Cor! And they blamed it all—all this—” he inhaled, threw his arm out to gesture to Insomnia, to the daemons, to the Starscourge in the black sky, “On me! And you—” he pointed at the man, collapsed on the ground, “You _dare_ have the nerve to come in here and ask me _why_? Ask me why I _lied_ to you? Do you want to know the real answer, Cor?” Ardyn shook, with rage, or something else, he knew not. “Do you want to know why I lied? Because for the first time in—” he choked on the words. “For the first time in ten times the lifetime of man, you looked at me and saw me. Just—just me. Just Ardyn. Just Ardyn, nothing. Nothing else.”

He covered his face again, sank back down to his knees, bowed his head. He didn’t want Cor to see him cry. He had some dignity left.

“Nobody else ever did that for me. And if you knew—if you knew, you would. Do this.” He laughed again, raw and wounded and _bare_. “Just like everyone else always has.”

\--

Ardyn was crying. Cor could tell from the way he was trembling, the quiet hitching of his breath. When the other man snapped at him not to come closer, Cor stopped. He leaned up on one arm and watched him and waited. And then Ardyn began to speak, voice ragged and raw, thick with tears.

Not once, the entire short time they’d been together, had Cor ever heard such brutally honest, truthful words. It was what he’d wanted from the beginning but now, in the dark of the night, on the desolate streets of Insomnia, each word hit like a punch to the gut, and he felt the guilt like bile rising at the back of his throat.

He’d always thought he and Ardyn were alike. They were both alone. They were both lonely. They’d both lost everything. And yet, the true scale of what the other man had been through, he never could have imagined.

The stories of the past, the scant truths he and the others had uncovered, had never prepared him for this. The whole truth. All of it.

He could see it now, laid out before him. The pain. The Astrals, forcing his hand. The overpowering disbelief that anyone, anyone at all, would ever believe him, would ever stand by him. The oncoming night, the sickness brought on by healing the daemons, the destiny of the new chosen king, and it was all so, so much more than a simple need for revenge.

And when Ardyn pointed at him, his own anger turned back on him, and told him why… the tears were thick in his throat, at the corners of his eyes. Cor parted his lips. He wanted to say something. He _had_ to say something. He curled his fingers against the pavement.

“No,” he said at last, struggling to sit up, voice straining. “Even though I blamed you, too, it wasn’t because I thought you were a monster.” He sighed, tried to catch his breath. “It was the opposite. I never wanted to believe that you would do… all of those things, just because you were some kind of daemon.” He winced, still dizzy. His side ached. “I was angry, too angry, but I... just wanted you to be... the Ardyn I knew. The one I saw when we were together. You were the only one I could be myself with. The one good thing I had, after I lost everything.” He slumped a little, shifted his grip on the slowly bleeding wound, and looked at him. “And I know I hurt you, on purpose, because I had to know if what we had back then was real.” He paused. “And I’m sorry.”

\--

In the silence, Cor shifted, sitting up. He was injured, but Ardyn couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about himself.

“I don’t know who I am any more,” Ardyn whispered, rather than say anything else. He stared at his hands. “I’m not what you want, Cor.” It hurt to admit it, but it was better than the lie. He didn’t know what to say to an apology like that. He didn’t, if he was totally truthful, even know what Cor meant. What he was trying to say. It was all just—too much.

Ardyn sighed.

“I wish none of this had ever happened.”

\--

Cor let out a deep, slow breath. The world still spun but it was lessening. His side ached but a potion would easily knit the wound. And neither of those things mattered in that instant. He got his feet under him and stood, shaky for a moment before he got his balance.

As much as it hurt, Ardyn, in his pain, in his brutal honesty, was all that he’d needed to see. Him, with none of the lies, none of the teasing, no fake smiles. Just him.

Slowly, carefully, he crossed the distance between them. “I don’t wish that,” he muttered, touching his shoulder. He let out a slow breath, and it was all too easy to sit down and relax against him, to wrap one arm around him and pull him close, press his face into his messy hair, like he used to. They were both a mess, but it didn’t matter. It was the first thing he’d done in three and a half years that felt _right_.

“You made me happy,” he said. “You made me feel alive again. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

\--

He didn’t move as Cor struggled to his feet and limped over to sit down, heavily, beside him. Ardyn just closed his eyes at the gentle touch to his shoulder, clenching his jaw until Cor wrapped an arm around him and pulled him over. It was just too much all at once, overwhelming and exhausting, and Ardyn curled his fingers into the cloth of the other man’s jacket, held on tight as Cor breathed into his hair, nose pressed into the top of his head.

He did not cry.

Or, at least, if he did, it was silent, hurtful sobs that built deep in his chest rather than the great, wracking wails that threatened at the back of his throat.

Ardyn held on, and cried silent and painful, and for once just—stopped.


	8. ever since we met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a moment, he cupped the back of his neck, drew Ardyn against him, and kissed him. And it was like everything that had been wrong for so long was right again, more right than it had ever been, and he pulled him closer, because more than anything, he had missed _this_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [panic! at the disco's "nearly witches"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GD3wWQ_Yyfg)

Ardyn leaned into him, fingers curled into his jacket, holding on. Cor let out quiet, deep breaths into his hair, the tears building up again at the back of his throat as the other man started to cry, tears trailing down his cheeks.

For a long time, he let Ardyn cry into his coat and just held him.

When Ardyn’s shaking sobs began to die down, he mumbled into his hair. “I had a room in the Citadel, once. I’m sure it’s not changed. Come with me.” They both needed to rest.

Gently, he withdrew himself from the other man, touched his hair to reassure him that he wasn’t leaving, and hauled himself to his feet again, stumbled to his motorcycle and took a potion out of his pack, letting the magic course through him, knitting his wounds.

He breathed a great sigh of relief at that. The only thing that didn’t fully dissipate was the dull throbbing headache between his eyes, but it did help. He was used to regular migraines, anyway, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. At the least, his side stopped sending shocks of pain all through him. He rubbed at his face and picked up his sword where it had skidded to a stop near the curb, let it disappear into the air, and returned for Ardyn, reaching a hand down to help him up. Better to return to the Citadel for the time being than to try to make it all the way back to Lestallum or Hammerhead. Better that the two of them be alone for a while, anyway.

\--

“To tell the truth, I haven’t looked.” He hadn’t really glanced around Insomnia at all other than to sulk on the throne. Petty, yes, but it had been his modus operandi this long, he couldn’t change gears now.

Reluctantly, he let Cor go and tried to piece himself back together. He heard Cor use a potion—useless to him, because his injuries were all nothing to do with physical damage. He would just have to rest them off. Time alone could cure his aches. While the other man gathered himself up, Ardyn struggled back to his feet, pushing himself up with his good leg, temple pressed into his palm as he hissed between his teeth. “The girl,” he warned the other man, and tried to turn, only for his hip to collapse and nearly topple him onto his face again, gesturing at her.

No doubt she was just unconscious. He wasn’t sure how well the healing would have worked—he was no gods-forsaken Oracle—but she was alive, he knew that much. When he was sure that the other man had the child in hand, Ardyn took Cor’s hand blindly, and sighed. “Hold on,” he mumbled between his teeth, and dragged Cor with him in the seams, through time and the echoes of life that mortals weren’t supposed to touch.

He shouldn’t have, because the moment Ardyn got his feet back, on the steps of the Citadel, he stumbled, shouting abruptly in pain and dropped lop-sidedly to his knees again, biting his lip to bleeding as the migraine pounded back full-force and his hip ached like a gunshot wound. “Fuck,” Ardyn moaned, doubling over his right knee with his head between his hands, fingers dug to bruising on his temples. If he’d been able to say it, he would have said that he should not have done that, but it was too late now to admit that he’d done something stupid and foolish aside from to wheeze and clench his jaw and wish for something, anything, to make it stop.

\--

Ardyn managed to struggle to his feet, and as he reminded him, Cor looked over at the girl, still unconscious in a tiny heap on the pavement. “I’ll get her,” he assured him, moving over to scoop the child up into his arms. It was hard to believe the daemon that had almost killed him had come from her, and he shifted her into one arm and held her tight and safe against his shoulder. He didn’t know how long she would remain unconscious for, but as soon as he and Ardyn settled things and the other man was feeling better, he would bring her back to Lestallum and hand her over to Monica. She was good with small children, and he knew she’d be able to find someone to care for the girl long term.

Child in one arm, he reached for Ardyn’s hand and took it tight in the other. He didn’t expect Ardyn to pull him so suddenly through the seams, but it wasn’t all that different from Warp striking, just longer, and his head reeled a little when they arrived.

Ardyn let go of his hand, dropping to his knees, grabbing his head. “Ardyn,” Cor said in alarm and lowered himself down to his knees beside him. He was not in good shape. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, reaching out to press one hand gently to the side of his head. “We could have walked.” But it was too late for that and he sighed quietly. “Here.” He shifted closer. “Lean against me. Take as long as you need.”

\--

When Cor pressed a hand to the side of his throbbing head, Ardyn made a gross noise in the back of his throat, overwhelmed and anguished. It hurt. “Don’t,” he tried to whisper, but it came out sawed in half and as jagged as shattered glass. He tried to shake his head but that only made it worse, and Ardyn just grasped for Cor’s hand blindly. He felt as much a child as the unconscious girl that the other man was carrying, but he needed to lay down somewhere, and he had a feeling Cor would not approve of him just laying facedown on the citadel floor, which was what he was like to do if he was left to his own devices.

\--

Ardyn made a quiet, pained noise and Cor took Ardyn’s hand in his instead, holding it tight. “You’re too big for me to carry,” he muttered with far too much affection, but it would be best for Ardyn to pass out in a bed rather than on the cold stone steps of the Citadel. “Just breathe. I’ll take you to bed.”

Gently, he coaxed Ardyn up, holding him close in his other arm to steady him, and began the slow, slow walk through the Citadel’s front doors. It was strange, entering the building now, with the girl in one arm and Ardyn in the other. So many times he’d walked those halls, and he moved towards his room almost on instinct alone, getting them all into the elevator and taking it up to the residential floor, where he and the other Crownsguard members had rooms.

So many conversations they’d had in those halls, so many long nights on guard duty. And now it was all just… quiet.

At last, they reached his room, and he keyed them inside, closed the door with his foot behind him, and guided Ardyn to the bed. The girl, he set gently down in a comfy armchair in the sitting area and covered her with the blanket folded up on the back of it. She would be all right there.

Then, he returned to the bedroom, took off his boots, and climbed on next to Ardyn, letting out a long, slow, exhausted sigh, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he tried to ease the dull throb just behind his eyes that was starting to worsen again.

\--

Ardyn grunted—he was almost the same height as Cor but significantly lighter, all his weight sloughed off by years spent fighting off the Scourge, and the other man could probably have lifted him if not for the girl, but—he didn’t really know past his feet moving, and the sickening lurch of the world and vertigo and darkness and. Cor.

The elevator would have made him throw up again if there’d been anything else left in his system, but as it was, he only staggered out and bumped into the wall with his shoulder, moaning in pain and swaying as Cor pulled him on, and on, and on, until they were through a door and he was being shoved onto a bed. It was a bed. It smelled like dust.

Ardyn dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, and didn’t realise he’d basically passed out until he was coherent again.

It was dark. He felt stiff, his hips and left arm aching, and still vaguely sick. He discovered, as he slowly sat up, one hand still pressed to his throbbing temple, down to only his shirt and trousers—Cor, probably, had stripped him of his clothes. It had been at least hours, he knew that much, but probably days. Hopefully not weeks. The last time he had done something similar, near-five hundred years before, he’d been bedridden for almost a month, but this had been. Somehow easier.

Probably because he had been so damn angry, and the Endless Night had already come.

Squinting out of his less-painful eye, Ardyn looked around the dark room where he was. It was less-dusty now, the overhead lightbulbs turned down very low. It was, he knew immediately, Cor’s bedroom, but the Marshal was nowhere to be seen. Likely, he’d just gotten Ardyn comfortable and dumped him; which wasn’t at all surprising.

Getting to shaky legs like a newborn chocobo, Ardyn stumbled and put his other hand out to catch himself on the wall. Every step was like trying to drag weights attached to his feet, the wall the only thing keeping him upright, and he followed it until he came to a door, almost-shut. He leaned on the dark wood, let it swing open, almost toppling without its support. He caught himself on the doorframe, and looked blearily around the outside room.

And found, to his surprise, that Cor was actually still there.

\--

Ardyn fell asleep easily, and Cor rested there for a time, in the quiet, until the pounding in his head receded. The following day, as Ardyn continued to sleep and the girl began to stir, Cor collected her and returned to his motorcycle, starting off on the long trip back to Lestallum.

He let her ride in front of him as she regained consciousness. She was woozy and tired and didn’t seem to know where she was, her small voice quiet and unsure as she started asking questions. He only gave her vague answers, enough to keep her satisfied.

When at last, he arrived in the city and the girl was more awake, gawking at the sheer number of people there, he took her by the hand and went to find Monica and Iris. They asked him, of course, where he’d found her, and he lied through his teeth that he’d rescued her from a daemon just outside of Insomnia. They both gave him the look that told him they knew he was lying, but didn’t press it, too busy cooing over the little girl. She really didn’t remember anything, but latched onto Monica almost immediately, and Cor knew she’d be well taken care of.

Apologies delivered to Iris for disappearing suddenly on her, he set out on the road again, after warding off all the offers for someone to accompany him. He brought supplies for cooking and plenty of potions and, eventually, a week or so after he’d set out, returned to Insomnia and to the Citadel to find Ardyn still asleep, right where he’d left him.

He spent the next while trying to clean the room of dust, shaking out the blankets and brushing off the tables, checking that the appliances in the kitchen still worked.

When he heard stumbling in the bedroom and then the door opened, he looked up. Ardyn blinked wearily at him, and Cor smiled. “You’re awake,” he said, moving towards him. “How do you feel?”

\--

Cor smiled at him, and Ardyn felt several things all at once, all of which were stupid, and none of which he could do the slightest thing about. He just leaned his head against the doorframe and tried to put an expression on his face but really all he managed to do was force his lips to twitch.

It took longer than he would have liked to force his brain around to using the most recent dialect of New Lucian; languages changed even when he didn’t. “Like shit,” he finally settled on, not forcing himself to do any more than that. “How long?” He added, trying to get a grasp of how far he’d knocked himself. It would take months, probably, to heal—he wanted Cor to leave so he could drop the ragged illusions that hid him from his own eyes, and look and see what his most recent idiocy had damaged.

Judging from the pain still in his left arm, from where he’d taken the daemon, it would be localised there. Probably another fingernail. Probably more veins turned black.

\--

Ardyn was a mess, his hair tangled, his eyes dazed. He barely seemed able to gather the energy to speak, but he was awake and on his feet and no longer crying out in pain, so it was an improvement.

“You’ve been out for a week,” Cor said. “I took the girl back to Lestallum. She’s safe now.” He put a hand on his shoulder, watched his eyes, and frowned. “Let me make you something warm to drink.” He doubted an immortal man who seemed to be mostly magic and daemon at this point needed food and drink, but it couldn’t hurt, and he popped over to the kitchen to get some coffee going.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do now, honestly. He hadn’t planned for this. He’d come to Insomnia to beg for death, to scream at Ardyn and end their relationship for good, again, and now he was in the kitchen of his old apartment making coffee for him and Ardyn was even more of a wreck than Cor had ever seen him.

In a way too, though, this was what he’d wanted all along. He knew the truth, now, and he and Ardyn were at least beginning to scrape together the remains of what they had. And Cor, despite being in a desolate city mostly inhabited by daemons, almost felt more comfortable there than he did in Lestallum. Comfortable, but unsure of himself, and unsure how to take care of Ardyn, or if he should even try.

When the coffee was done, he rinsed one of his old Crownsguard mugs and filled it, bringing it back to him. “It was… healing the girl, that did that to you,” he half-asked, even if he already knew.

\--

Cor stood in front of him, looking older and younger than Ardyn felt. In the dim overheads, he could pick out that the grey in the other man’s hair wasn’t just hiding in the brown anymore. It was visible now, silver picked out in stone. He didn’t know when that had happened, just that it had. “All right,” he mumbled, after Cor had moved away, and for a time he stood there against the doorframe before he dragged himself closer, following the other man’s footsteps, and ended up boneless in the kitchen doorframe instead, eyes shut as he tried to dig some energy out of somewhere.

Maybe if Noctis woke up right now, he wouldn’t even have to try to lose.

Cor’s footsteps jarred him conscious again, and Ardyn stared at him, tried to force himself to suss the words. He got it, eventually, and took the coffee. Slowly. Very slowly.

He needed to sit down. Chairs were too hard. Ardyn just stuck his left leg out and slid his back down the doorframe to sit right where he had been standing, head rolled back against the cool stone and the wood, eyes half-shut, and nodded to answer the question. “Lunafreya could have, too. If she had the price to pay.”

\--

Cor pressed the coffee mug into his hands. Ardyn took it, shaky, after following him to the kitchen like a needy, exhausted child. Then he slid down to the floor and Cor just let him be, digging out another mug to pour himself a cup as well.

He pulled a wooden chair over from the table near by and sat down heavily in it. “I see,” he said, frowning a little. “So you’ve been able to do that for… a long time, then?” A long time indeed, he imagined. How many people like that girl had Ardyn saved, only to take the monsters into himself, making himself sicker and sicker. He frowned. “Will you recover?”

\--

“A while,” Ardyn confirmed. _A while_. It was better than telling Cor the more complex answer, giving him dates and names and dead languages and a hundred, a thousand lifetimes. Instead, he just forced himself to drink the coffee, and hoped that it would lift the worst of the headache out of his skull. It wouldn’t, of course. But he could hope, pointlessly.

He hesitated for a time, trying to figure out the best way to respond. “Yes.” Ardyn paused, and then added, “And no.”

\--

Short, vague answers. But at least they were answers. Cor sighed, sipped his coffee. “I see.” He thought back to the girl, thought about what he might have done to her, if he’d been in a better state of mind, and then he thought of all the daemons he’d killed, and who they might have been before. An uncomfortable guilt settled in the pit of his stomach.

Ardyn had done so much good for the world, and been forced to bring about so much wrong in exchange. “You’re a true hero,” he said at last, watching him. Cor had known from the beginning, too, that only Noctis could end the endless night, destroy the Starscourge and bring the day, and Ardyn had been helping him along his path, too, hadn’t he? Preparing him for that inevitable end. Cor let out a slow breath. “More than any of us ever could be.” And yet, it would be Noctis they all remembered.

“If there’s anything I can do for you. If you’ll let me… I will.” Even if he still didn’t like so much of what Ardyn had done, he could blame it all too easily on the Astrals, or on a means to an end. At the least, he could see now more than ever through the lies and the façades and the smile with too much teeth to the man inside, the one who had always wanted the best for the world, who had only wanted to help people. And that was the sort of man he could follow to the bitter end.

\--

“Don’t say that,” Ardyn’s voice shook as he spoke, and he found he couldn’t look at Cor. “Don’t.” He had to swallow around the lump in his throat; he hated that Cor saw something in him he couldn’t see in himself, and spoke like it was still there and salvageable. It wasn’t.

Ardyn sighed and slid further down until his knee bumped against the other side of the frame, closed his eyes, breathed hot breath over his coffee. “There’s nothing. I’ll die soon. It will all be over then.”

\--

“Ardyn,” he sighed, stared down at his coffee. Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. Maybe it hurt too much. And he knew there was nothing he could do. It was far too late for anyone to do anything. Still, at the least, he could be there. He’d spent so much of his life feeling alone, he knew what that was like. Of all mortals, he could probably understand Ardyn the most, and now that he knew the full story and they’d begun to settle their disagreements, he just… wanted to be there for him.

“I know,” he muttered. “Still… let me stay with you until then.” He fidgeted, rubbed at his nose, pressed his hands to his coffee mug. “I want to.”

\--

It wasn’t a _conversation._ It was more the two of them talking in circles, never touching the actual problem, the real issue. Ardyn wasn’t lying any more, but Cor wasn’t _asking_. He was just too hesitant. Too scared. Like if he pushed too hard, Ardyn would erupt.

When the other man spoke at last, Ardyn turned his head slightly to look up at him, his less-pained eye not as squinted. “Why?” He shot back. “For what?” He would have laughed, if doing so wouldn’t have made him collapse, probably, and instead he just drank the coffee. “I’ll only get worse. Toward the end. You really want to watch me die?”

\--

Cor frowned at him, brow furrowed. “I know that,” he snapped back. “Of course I don’t want to watch you die, Ardyn. That’s not the point. I’ve seen plenty of people die, people I was close to, people I cared about. I can handle it.” He shifted in his seat. “And I care about _you_.” He held the mug tight in his hands, squeezing it to get out all the tension in his shoulders. “But I could never tell if you really cared about me at all until… until we fought. Until you saved me.” He thought back, ran one hand roughly through his hair.

He looked away from him, scowling in thought, more angry at himself than anything. “After the others came back and told me what happened, I thought you’d just been toying with me all that time. I thought you hated me. But still, those three years…”

His heart clenched tight in his chest. It was hard, to finally admit. “I missed you. I missed you, and I still want you back, for however much time you have left.” He let out a slow, shaky breath. “I’ve been too afraid to ask if you want me back, too.”

\--

Cor’s voice got sharp, the tension coiled in his body and words like an earthquake ready to rumble. Hearing him be so open _hurt_ in a very real way, raw and open like a wound, and only his exhaustion kept Ardyn from turning toward Cor, from reaching for him. “It’s not that simple.” Ardyn closed his eyes.

He was so tired. So, so tired.

“It’s done now. Borrowed time. Noct will be back—then.” He breathed out a sigh. “Better off with no regrets. Better off you leave me here. It would be easier without someone caring.” Letting Noctis kill him would be suicide, sure as spit and salt and stars. And he was willingly going to that execution; and it would only be harder if he tried to do it with someone expecting him to come home.

\--

After getting out, he glanced back at Ardyn, frowned a little. It wasn’t a no. More… he sounded like he’d given up hope.

“Ardyn,” he said carefully, “Don’t be a fool. However much time you have left, better to live. It’s easy to give up now. But wouldn’t it be more worthwhile in the end for those last few months or years or however long you have, to mean something? To be happy, even if it didn’t last? I know what you have to do. But just, to have you, to be together, for now...” He paused. “It would mean everything to me.”

\--

Cor thought that he’d seen everything, but Ardyn had never met a single person as foolishly hopeful, as desperately clinging to the idea that there was something _worth it_ as Cor was. Ardyn’s laugh felt half-hearted, even to him, and he shook his head. “I haven’t lived in a very long time, Cor. Not even you can change that now, however much I wish you could. It’s too late for that.” It was too late for a lot of things.

Blindly, Ardyn reached out and set a hand on the other man’s knee, squeezed it. “Go home, Cor.” The irony of saying that as they sat in the other man’s abandoned rooms, the same way they’d been the day Ardyn had seen the Citadel brought to ruin, was not lost on him. “Go home. Please. I…” he trailed off, shuddered at the pain in his skull and the exhaustion that dogged all his limbs. “I’m not myself. Let me. I’ll come when I’m well.”

\--

Cor let out a quiet sigh. He wanted to do more. He wished he could. But he relaxed when Ardyn rested one hand on his knee, squeezed it gently, reassuringly. When Ardyn told him to go home, he let out another slow breath and nodded, reluctantly.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I understand.” Ardyn had been to his room in Lestallum before, when they fought the first time, and anyway, Ardyn could always find him. If he wanted to recover alone, that was his choice, and Cor would let him be. “I’ll go.”

He took a moment to finish off his coffee, saying nothing, then set his mug on the counter. “You’re welcome to use this space. And I brought food with me, I’ll leave some of that with you, in case you want to use it.” He looked over at the other man, sitting on the floor, looking a fraction of his usual self.

He went to stand beside him, reached an arm down to gently stroke his hair with his fingers, just once. “I’ll be waiting for you in Lestallum.” He needed time to collect his own thoughts anyway, and it was probably best to get back before Monica and Iris suspected even more than they already did.

\--

When Cor said goodbye by stroking his hair as gently as a breeze, Ardyn almost started to cry again. If his eyes had been open, he would have, but as it was, it was a near thing. He leaned into the other man’s touch, desperate for that reassurance, but still let him go.

It took, by his guess, about two days for Ardyn to get up off of the floor. Three more to manage to put clothes back on. At some point, he passed out again in Cor’s bed, surrounded by the vague scent of the other man, and awoke days later again. He spent nearly a week trying to parse out what had changed, and found four new veins running black up his left arm, and a new, constant pressure that he could sense like a kettle kept from steaming if he investigated his mind too close, a low-grade scream. It would blend with all the others, given time.

Eventually, he summoned the Armiger again to be sure that nothing had happened there, even though it risked a relapse. Eventually, Ardyn climbed back to the throne room and felt that there was something missing. It wasn’t cruel enough, as it was. Eventually, he crafted his illusions anew to hide his face and the new veins in his arm, and eventually, he was well enough to travel. Stepping through time and space was truly no more difficult than Warping; the same muscles, the same skills, the same tools, just on a far larger scale. With far larger consequences to damn it, of course.

And, eventually, after nearly three months, Ardyn dropped down into the seat at Cor’s kitchen table, like he’d always belonged there.

\--

Cor left and drove back to Lestallum. After that, he didn’t travel much for a month or so. He returned to his previous routine of training Iris and the others to fight, and organizing hunts, though he didn’t carry any out himself. He knew he would have to eventually but for now… after the girl… and Ardyn… how could he?

The little girl, who was now fully awake and aware, didn’t remember anything of her past. Monica, rather than pass her off to foster parents, had apparently decided she was the Crownsguard baby now and adopted her. They called her Myra and she’d become particularly attached to Iris, who had dubbed herself big sister. It was… cute. And Cor was glad, at least, that the girl Ardyn saved would grow up strong, with good people around her.

His room, by extension, became off-limits. He said it was because he wanted to keep his private space private but the truth was, he just didn’t want anyone there in case Ardyn suddenly materialized in his living room.

And then, he waited. He’d always been a patient man, and the months went by easily enough. Myra was doing well and he’d somehow become her awkward but very much loved Uncle Cor, and Iris was strong enough to tackle some of the low grade hunts on her own. She went out with Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto sometimes too, if any of them were available.

Still, every day when Cor returned to his room, he’d look around, just to see if Ardyn was there. And three months later, at last, when he came home one day, there he was. The other man was just sitting at his kitchen table like he’d always been there.

Cor had been out scouting and his hair was windblown, his coat dirty, but he didn’t care so much, as he stood in the door to the kitchen and smiled at him. “You’re here,” he said. “Welcome back.”

\--

Ardyn was inspecting his fingernails when Cor came in, and he pillowed his chin on his hand, looked him over. Now, in good light, not angry or his vision clouded by the suffusing pain and heat of a migraine.

Cor smiled at him, and it made him look ten years younger, lifting the sharp too-tight lines by his mouth. He’d gotten another scar on his forehead, Ardyn saw. “Yes,” Ardyn leaned back in the chair, flopping as-if boneless. “I am afraid that, unfortunately for everyone involved, I remain in one piece and breathing. No thanks to my own foolish decisions.” Even before his Fall, healing had been. Bad. Now it was just _worse_.

Rocking back into the back two legs of the chair, Ardyn looked at Cor, and then finally, pushed himself off of the table to spin the chair so that they were properly facing one another, propped his feet up on the table sitting halfway leaned-back. “You have questions,” he said at last. “And I am here to answer them.”

\--

Cor almost laughed a little. The last time he found him here, in his apartment, he’d been so angry and confused. Now, it was a relief to see him in one piece and feeling so much more like himself. He was dressed and his eyes were bright, his hair as wild as ever, and his voice was clear again.

When Ardyn spun to face him, putting his feet up on the table, Cor pulled out another chair and sat down as well, elbows on his knees. “I do,” he said, “have questions.” He clasped his hands, unclasped them, tried to think. He had a lot of questions, but mostly after waiting three months, he was just glad to see him. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he admitted, then stood again, pushed one hand back through his hair. “Let me make some coffee.”

As he put the coffee pot on, he tried to think about all he knew, and all he still didn’t know. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth sooner?” he began slowly. He’d asked that before, and Ardyn had answered, but that entire conversation had been in rushes of emotion and anger and desperation. Neither of them had exactly been at their best. “You thought I would turn against you?”

\--

Cor sat down across from them, and they sat there, two old men in the shades of a dying world. At least they had one another. When Cor admitted he didn’t know where to start and stood to make coffee, Ardyn smiled and leaned on his hand. It was nice, of Cor, to offer him food or drinks. When he didn’t really need either, at this point.

“I think you can answer that question for yourself,” Ardyn replied, returning to studying his cuticles. “What would you have done, Cor, If you had known at the beginning? You saw how you reacted; you can’t honestly think you would have taken it any better a few years removed. No—I didn’t expect you to _turn on me_ , as you so elegantly put it.” He shook his head. “I expected to have to answer more questions than I had the energy to deal with. I’m an old man, Marshal. I’m too tired for that sort of nonsense”

\--

Cor leaned back against the counter, contemplating. It was true, if Ardyn had told him back then, well… he might have been a little less angry, but still angry. He would have demanded so much of him, and he knew Ardyn well enough now that he was sure other man wouldn’t have given him details.

He sighed. “No, you’re right. That’s… a good point.” He frowned. “Well, aside from that, there’s no easy way to say that I want to hear about your past and how all of this started except that… I do. I know a little bit, from what Prompto and Ignis and Talcott found out, from the legends, from what you told me, back in Insomnia but… none of it was exactly… cohesive.” He’d mostly pieced the facts together on his own, all of it solidified and made clear by Ardyn’s inarticulate shouting. He didn’t remember much from back then, though, not the specific words. He’d been too woozy himself, after hitting his head, and they’d both been a mess. “Tell me about the other man who was with you, the other King. Noctis’s ancestor.”

\--

“The broad strokes are more than enough, believe you me.” At the other question, he hesitated. Bit his lip.

“He…” He hated, speaking of it. Even now. The heartbreak from then had never healed. It had never had a chance to. “He had eyes just like yours.” The blue of the sky and of deep, deep water. Eyes that looked right through you like blades.

Ardyn stood, rather than stare at those eyes, and went to the window, leaned against it to look out over Lestallum. He was tired, but magic was still as easy as breathing and simpler yet to hide himself so that only an empty window would show to anyone who looked in. “He was...I trusted him, and that really is the least of it.” Ardyn shook his head. “Man was a son of a bitch. I suppose he thought he was doing me a mercy, and you can see how that ended.”

\--

Cor frowned, watching him. Ardyn had said that before, too. And he remembered, what felt like ages ago now, when Ardyn had commented on his eyes. He looked away. The coffee was bubbling and he shut it off, quietly got two mugs out of the cupboard, and set them down.

“I see,” he said, clenching his jaw. “That’s…” he sighed. “Horrible.” He couldn’t think of much else to say, except that he wished that man was still alive, so he could teach him a lesson about trust and respect. Not that Cor had done much better lately, but at least when he’d attacked Ardyn it had been in anger and confusion, never hate, and never jealousy.

Pouring the coffee, he brought one mug to Ardyn at the window. “Does it hurt, to look at my eyes?” He wanted to be so much better than that man, but the past few years, all he’d done was hurt Ardyn, too. Because he was misinformed, yes, and because Ardyn had hurt him indirectly, but still. He wanted to be better than that.

\--

Cor came over with the coffee, and Ardyn took the offered mug. He didn’t need it, but it was the thought that counted. He looked over at the other man, at his blue, blue eyes, and smiled. “No.” The mug was warm in his hands, and there was something about the low lighting, minimal electricity, that softened Cor’s cheekbones and chin. “At first, it did.” It hurt less every time, though. Every time he looked and saw more of Cor, and less of the past.

It was past time he stopped living with ghosts.

“Now I only see you.”

\--

Ardyn took the mug. Cor knew he didn’t need it, but still. He felt it was polite, at the least. Ardyn met his eyes, smiled at him, and it was such an usually soft smile, coming from him, that Cor felt like his heart might burst. He was beautiful in the gentle glow of the city, his wild red hair softly lit, his eyes as large and brown and warm as ever.

Cor softened at the other man’s words, moved in closer and cautiously lifted one hand to stroke his hair, with all the affection in the world. He’d missed running his fingers through it like that, feeling how thick it was as he combed through it.

After a moment, he cupped the back of his neck, drew Ardyn against him, and kissed him. And it was like everything that had been wrong for so long was right again, more right than it had ever been, and he pulled him closer, because more than anything, he had missed _this_.

\--

Cor leaned forward, and Ardyn didn’t move away from the fingers that tangled in his hair under the brim of his hat, just leaned closer to meet him in the middle when the other man cupped the back of his neck, pulled him over until they were pressed together from shoulder to ankle, and he opened his mouth into the kiss, set the coffee untouched on the windowsill, tangled his fingers into the cloth of Cor’s shirt and pressed closer against him until he had to breathe, pulled away.

“That’s not a question, Marshal.”

\--

Ardyn let him, parted his lips, tangled his fingers into Cor’s shirt and Cor kissed him deeper, dragging him closer. They were pressed up against each other, and the kiss was warm and everything he’d ever wanted.

When they pulled back, eyes closed, he half-laughed under his breath and smiled against the other man’s lips, setting his coffee down with Ardyn’s to warp his other arm around his waist. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

\--

Cor laughed into his mouth and pulled him over, powerful arms around Ardyn’s waist. He’d lost what little fat had been on his frame in the last three years, and it had left Cor as solid and well-muscled as stone. Ardyn was just happy to be warm in his arms, and bit, gently, at his lower lip. A few years before, he would have done that to bleeding. Now, he didn’t want to.

“That’s a bad idea, and we both know it.” There was still so much unsaid between them; it would be foolish to try and build something when they were both on such unsteady footing. “I came to talk to you, not to have sex. Three years might be a while for you, Cor, but before you, it had been about seven hundred years for me.”

\--

Ardyn nipped gently at his lip and Cor pressed their foreheads together beneath the brim of his hat, humming quietly at his reluctant acknowledgement that that was probably a bad idea. Seven hundred years _was_ a long time. “However long you want to stay, then,” he muttered, and tried to think of another question, glancing out the window at the city spread out below. He wasn’t in any rush to have sex anyway, not like he used to be. He was happy enough just holding him and all his layers in his arms again. “Was it really you who brought the endless night?”

\--

Cor pressed their foreheads together, settling for sharing personal space, which Ardyn had the opposite of a problem with. Since he was clearly allowed to look _and_ touch, he took ample enjoyment in rucking up the other man’s shirts and sliding his hands underneath, tracing the powerful muscles there with his fingertips and palms, the curly hair on Cor’s stomach springy against his hands.

“Yes. And no.” Ardyn paused. “Mostly yes,” he clarified. “The Starscourge happened because of me, but it would have happened someday, regardless of Noctis. It would have happened when I was—” _still King_ , is what bottles up behind his teeth, and he has to breathe for a moment, “Was still young but for my intervention. It was inevitable regardless of if I was the one to bring it. I am just a convenient locus for it.”

\--

It was nice, just standing like that, with him, and he didn’t mind at all that Ardyn’s fingers slipped beneath his shirts, rucking them up and touching his muscles, warm palms against his skin.

“Hmm.” He considered what Ardyn told him. It made sense. “I see. So then, it’s because of how many daemons you… healed.” He was trying to get his facts straight, it was easy to get it all muddled up. So much of it, too, just seemed like such a lengthy, drawn out bedtime story, but all their legends traced back to it, and legends came from somewhere.

He frowned. “The Astrals turned you away because of that and used you as the source of the Starscourge?” He wrinkled his nose in distaste, and he looked into the man’s eyes carefully. He didn’t even want to know how many daemons Ardyn had taken in like that. How many people he’d saved at his own expense.

But, that was more or less what had happened, and then the other King had become the first King of Lucis instead of Ardyn, which eventually lead down to Noctis. “And Noctis was the Chosen One. I knew that. King Regis… told me, a number of years ago, in case I would ever have to guide him. He’s like a nephew to me but… I don’t think I ever understood… exactly what this would all entail.”

He stroked Ardyn’s hair idly, beneath the brim of his hat, feeling the soft strands between his fingers. “You helped Niflheim destroy my city, and killed Lady Lunafreya. Was that all because of Noctis?”

\--

Ardyn shrugged. “That about hits the nail on the head, yes.” He leaned back against the wall as they spoke, trapped between two kinds of solidity, one the far warmer. “I won’t lie and say that I didn’t get a great deal of satisfaction from Cor’s warmth. But as for the latter…” Ardyn had lived off of spite for almost his entire existence. He’d gotten what petty revenge he could, even if it came out of innocent lives in whole cloth.

It had been so long that what little empathy he’d had at the end of everything to begin with had been finally beaten out of him completely.

“You know how this ends.” Ardyn’s voice was a murmur. “As I was, as _he_ was, do you think Noctis could have killed me in cold blood? Do you really think that without Insomnia in ashes and ruin and Lunafreya’s blood on my hands, he would willingly call down hellfire on my damned old soul? He has to _die_ , Cor. He has to willingly walk into the jaws of death and not look back or hesitate for a moment—could _you_ do it, at his age? Could you make that decision, if you’d had a home and a wife to return to?”

It was a rhetorical question; Ardyn knew.

You couldn’t do it without remorse.

\--

Ardyn leaned back against the wall and Cor leaned into him. It was stable, comfortable, like that. He was following everything Ardyn said well enough, and when they came to Noctis, he let out a slow, slow breath. Ardyn was being surprisingly gentle about it. And Cor had begun to figure out that everything he’d done, everything he’d done to hurt them all, had been to drive Noctis onward. He knew that, though it didn’t make any of it easier to bear. It had never been easy to bear in the first place.

“I know,” he whispered. “And no… I couldn’t have… he couldn’t have. It’s not easy, to have to die so everyone else can live. Not easy for the ones around you, either, I can only imagine. And King Regis… he knew it, too. He knew what was coming. He told me what had to happen, but I could never see it all panned out, like he could. Everything that he expected to happen, everything he knew had to come to pass. And everything you planned for, too.” He watched Ardyn’s eyes again, leaned more into him. “But still… back then, I never considered now much Noctis’s fate would affect all the rest of us in turn. It’s been… hard.” He couldn’t even imagine what it would have been like to be the boy’s father, to have to live with that knowledge his entire life. But he’d realized, too, that along with Noctis and his friends, Regis had made sure Cor got out when the city fell, and Iris. He’d likely done his best to protect Clarus, too.

Cor half-laughed, sorrowfully, quietly. “Too bad I can’t find the Astrals and give them a piece of my mind, too, for all of this.”

\--

“The Astrals care very little for the needs and thoughts of humans,” Ardyn replied. “To them, even I am just a blink. They don’t understand what devastation they wreak on the lives of mortals. Except Shiva.” She had always been the kindest. She still was.

Ardyn shook his head. “Trust me; I have. At length. Several times. As did Lunafreya herself, before her death. I’ve no doubt Noctis has as well, although he knows not for what. Given the position that they put Regis in, I can almost admire the man. He played a losing hand better and with more panache than I could ever have hoped to. Your usurper King may have finally earned that title.”

\--

There was not much to be said to all of that. He knew Ardyn was right, and he didn’t doubt that Luna and Noctis had both said their pieces to the Astrals, though it made little difference in the end. And he’d admired Regis, too, more than he was even willing to say. Though he supposed he’d found himself a new King, now.

Cupping Ardyn’s cheek, he pressed their faces together, closed his eyes and sighed against him. At the least, now that he knew all of that to be true, he knew, too, that the blame hardly rested on Ardyn’s shoulders, at least not on his alone. He’d done the best he could, too, even if he didn’t seem to think that.

Cor drew back, brushed his cheek, met his eyes. “After all those years,” he muttered, “is this what you really look like?” He’d never thought about it all that much, but now, given what he knew, and what he knew Ardyn’s capabilities with magic were like, he doubted it, and the question of it had been prodding at him for a while. He hadn’t wanted to upset him or offend him by asking it but, since he was apparently allowed to ask whatever he wanted, it was the right time for it. He was starting to run out of questions that weren’t quite so personal.

\--

Cor was watching him like there was something on his mind and whatever that something was, he didn’t want to ask it. Ardyn slid his hands around the other man’s back, following the shift of his ribs under his skin to his shoulder blades, sharp under layers of muscle, and the undulating curves of his spine. His hands hesitated, though, and came to a halt at the small of Cor’s back, fingers frozen with the question.

Ardyn looked into Cor’s eyes, and debated lying.

“No.” His breath came out a whisper, shaky on his lips. Not in the slightest. Oh, the setting was the same—same face, same hair, same body—but the features were so very different. “It’s not. I…” He almost said Cor wouldn’t want to see it, but he didn’t know if that was _true_ any more. “I don’t want you to see it and change your mind.”

\--

Ardyn’s palms slid across his back, up either side of his spine along his ribs. No one in his life had ever touched him like Ardyn did, like every inch of him was worth something.

When he asked the question, he could see the indecision in the other man’s eyes, the hesitation as he tried to find the right answer. He admitted it, though, whispered, shaky. Cor waited patiently for him to finish, and the answer made his heart ache.

“I wouldn’t,” he muttered, “change my mind. You could be the ugliest daemon there ever was and I’d still—” What. Love him? No, that was… too strong, too much, too much for both of them. “Want you,” he settled for, and that felt right. Even when he knew Ardyn was the Chancellor of Niflheim he’d wanted him, after all. Even when he knew he’d killed Luna and hurt Noctis and Prompto, when he’d been angry beyond words, a part of him had still wanted him then, too.

“You don’t have to show me now. But sometime… sometime, I’d like to see.” He didn’t know if Ardyn would ever let him but, at the least, the thought was there.

\--

Ardyn huffed a laugh. “But _I_ don’t want it, Cor. I’m not going to be something to you that I can’t be to myself.” He hated his actual face, the black ruin that marred most of his body. But, Cor did seem...hopeful. And the other man had not yet lied to Ardyn.

“Maybe,” he said at last, reluctantly letting the other man go, pulling his hands out from inside Cor’s shirt. “Perhaps.” It was a little too much for him to deal with at that moment, though. Too overwhelming.

With his hands back to himself, Ardyn hesitated, and then cupped Cor’s cheeks, feeling the stubble there. He needed to shave; it was growing near as rangy as Ardyn’s. “Anything else?” He asked, his voice pitched low. He _liked_ Cor boxing him in against the wall, liked how their noses bumped together, the feeling of being trapped somewhere of his own free will. “Or is that all?”

\--

Cor wasn’t going to press it. _Maybe_ was an acceptable enough answer for the time being, and he nodded. Ardyn pulled his hands back to himself, cupped his cheeks instead, and Cor smiled at him. He’d missed this, the two of them close, faces pressed together, and he leaned into the other man’s touch.

He contemplated quietly, whether he had anything else to ask, and at last he muttered, with a smile, “No. No, that’s all.” He’d finally gotten his truth, he finally understood. And he had Ardyn there, with him. That was all he’d wanted, really. “Thank you.”

\--

Ardyn kissed Cor, just once, just gently. “I’m glad,” he said, and then squeezed the other man’s cheek gently. “They’ll begin suspecting something,” he warned Cor. “If they don’t already.” He paused, and then bumped their foreheads together just hard enough to make his hat fall onto Cor’s head. “Best not reveal the chase, Marshal.”

And with that, he left. Before he decided not to.

\--

Ardyn kissed him, gently, and Cor leaned forward into it, closing his eyes a little. “I know,” he said, still leaning into him, because he did know that. And they did suspect. But he’d done everything he could to avoid it. If they ever confronted him, he would come up with something to tell them.

Their foreheads bumped together, Ardyn’s hat slipping onto Cor’s head, and then he blinked and Ardyn had gone. It was just him, with the other man’s hat on his head, leaning against the wall.

Cor sighed long-sufferingly. But, there was nothing to be done for it. He’d known Ardyn wouldn’t stay long. And since he’d left his hat, well… it was clear he was coming back. Still, he could have at least said something. Ardyn wasn’t exactly good at informing him when he planned to come and go, but at least nothing had changed.

Cor pulled the hat off, held it by the brim at his side, and drank his coffee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you may notice in this chapter (and ongoing changes in earlier chapters...) that we're making mention of Ardyn having difficulty moving one of his legs. We promise this isn't headcanon and there's actually a very real reference for this being true in the game itself, but that analysis is still forthcoming as a whole.
> 
> Basically, don't be surprised to find that here. It is a change from previous chapters but, you know, this game has more lore holes than a lace doily and we're only just starting to be able to patch them...sorta. Wish we'd worked it in earlier but o well; NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT


	9. oh my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to fuck you as you really are. Without the illusions.” Cor pulled back enough to watch his eyes, stroked his hair, tangling it between his fingers. “If you’ll let me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [mother mother's "o my heart"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBAoLoxJ32Q)

Ardyn didn’t exactly have anything to do. He spent his time mostly in Insomnia, preparing for Noctis’ arrival, or elsewhere doing the same. He spent a surprising amount of time starting to impress on the daemons to leave Lestallum alone; contrary to popular belief, just because he was mostly-daemon himself didn’t mean that he controlled them. They controlled themselves, and he had power only over those within him. So keeping them away from Lestallum was difficult at best.

But he did it anyway, because humans were humans, and harmless as they were, and he had no bone to pick with innocents.

Still, it was hard to keep track of time, and it was almost a month before he returned to Cor’s apartment to find it empty again. Ardyn, bored when Cor didn’t show up for several hours, started to dig through the pantry, going through canned food until he found eggs and pine nuts. The latter he dumped in a bowl to soak, and the former he started to turn into soft boiled eggs.

By the time Cor returned, Ardyn had taken the two fresh fish from his fridge and was messing with magic to make them age into _garum_ , and had eaten half the pine nuts.

\--

Cor wasn’t all that surprised that Ardyn didn’t show up for a few weeks. He was used to it, and he didn’t expect anything less.

What he did not expect was to open his apartment door one day, returning after a long afternoon training Iris, to smell… something… cooking? He had a moment where he was terrified he’d left the burner on and almost burned the place down, but then he heard movement and other sounds and turned the corner into the kitchen.

“Ardyn,” he said, surprised, as he came face to face with the man’s wild head of hair as he moved about the kitchen. He stared at him for a moment, then at the pot on the stove and the pine nuts and the fish. “Why are you in my kitchen… cooking? And eating my pine nuts?” Slowly, he started to take his coat off by force of habit, like he always did when he got home, his fingers working at the buttons as he tried to figure out what Ardyn was trying to cook. Ardyn, who was immortal and as far as he knew didn’t have to eat or drink at all.

\--

He did his best, most nonchalant hipcock against the counter, letting it take his weight, and ran fingers through his hair to straighten it. He definitely hadn’t been cooking because he’d missed doing totally mundane things and it would make Cor happy. As the other man shed his coat, Ardyn settled on calmly replying, “People eat food.”

Cor knew now what Ardyn was. It was kind of nice to just be himself and nothing else. “So I made food.” Ardyn raised both his eyebrows up into his hairline. “I can cook, Cor. I wasn’t _born_ a daemon.”

\--

Cor shrugged his coat off, set it on the back of one of the three chairs at the kitchen table. Ardyn had really made himself at home in the kitchen, like Cor came home to this every day. “That’s… true,” he admitted. “Well that’s… very nice of you.”

He sat down heavily, tired and still a little befuddled, but amused at the same time. As unexpected as it was, it was sweet. “I supposed that’s true, I’ve just never seen you cook before.” He stared again at the pot on the stove. “So, what are you making?”

\--

Cor sat down tiredly, and Ardyn snagged the cup of Ebony off of the counter he’d been drinking and slid it over to the other man without looking. “Never had a reason to,” Ardyn replied, focused on the timing for the pine nuts and the garum. The former were done soaking, the latter was eluding him. It needed more heat, but all he had to do for that was focus Fire on just the pot they were in.

His fingers licked with flame, and Ardyn started heating the fish like he did it every day. “But really, sitting around for a dozen lifetimes was boring already, having to find _something_ to do to pass the time waiting for our beloved Astrals to give Noctis back is just mind-numbing. Nobody wants to sit idly for years.” The garum finished, he let the flames burn out, and dumped the fish paste into a bowl. “Just...what I used to eat. You’ll have to forgive me, Marshal, I’m afraid my recipes are rather out of style.”

\--

He took the cup Ardyn slid towards him, picked it up and drank. It was exactly what he needed. He and Iris were long past the basics and she was getting very good, her boundless energy was starting to wear him out after a long training session.

Ardyn had a good enough point, and Cor watched him as he finished with the fish and the flames. It looked like he had made some sort of a… fish paste. Cor frowned a little, then shrugged. He’d eaten terrible food out of politeness before, it couldn’t be that bad. “I’m sure it’s fine. But if you want to try some more modern recipes, I can get them for you. Just give me an idea of what you’d like to make.” All he’d have to do was casually ask Ignis for a recipe or two, say he was trying to cook more varied food for himself. He’d never know the difference.

\--

He didn’t ask for recipes, he didn’t eat or need them. “I can cook if you want something in particular, but I’ve no flair for it.” He plated the food, and put it in front of Cor, taking one egg for himself and hopping up onto the other man’s counter, legs crossed comfortably at the ankle to favour his bad hip, and crammed the egg and its garum and pine-nut paste whole into his mouth.

After he’d finished chewing the egg, Ardyn put his chin on his hand and watched Cor. “I certainly hope it wasn’t a daemon that gave you that new scar on your forehead. It’s quite dashing, but I do prefer you in one piece.”

\--

Cor just smiled a little. It was nice, that Ardyn had cooked for him, even if he wasn’t completely sure what to do with it aside from eat it like Ardyn had, only more slowly. It wasn’t even all that bad. It was actually… good. Fishy, but good. “We’ll see,” he said. Maybe, sometime, he would ask Ardyn to cook for him, just because he liked the idea.

When Ardyn mentioned his scar he looked up from chewing on fish paste and egg and rubbed at the spot. “Oh…” He frowned in thought. “It... was, actually.” Both the compliment and the concern for his health were touching, though, and he flushed a little, more flustered than he wanted to be. No one had ever said his scars were _dashing_. He’d never even thought that himself. They were just. Scars. They happened.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m taking a little break from daemon hunting, until I’m done training some of my students. Even so, I will take caution when I return, as I always do.” Well, aside from the one time he hadn’t, in the Citadel, but there had been reasons for that. “Regardless of that, a few scars are inevitable.” He had more than a few, too. A growing collection of them, after so many fights over so many years. “The food was good, by the way,” he added awkwardly. He really didn’t know what to do with Ardyn, sitting on his counter looking gorgeous, eyeing him and complimenting him and cooking for him.

\--

Ardyn didn’t want to tell Cor that he worried because Cor was finite, in a way that Ardyn wasn’t. He was also just about the only thing keeping him from giving into the constant, overwhelming thoughts about the way that this was going to end in only a few scant years, and the darkness that crept in ever at the edges of his thoughts. He had kept it at bay for years with distractions and plans, but all that was gone now.

“Where are the rest of them?” Ardyn kept his voice light, although his gaze was heated as he traced the other man’s neck down to his collar. “Surely a warrior as formidable as you would have...no major injuries. After all, to earn the title _Immortal_ requires a good deal of tenacity. Why, even I never got that title.”

\--

Cor almost pointed out that Ardyn had _seen_ him naked but then, in their desperation back then, he’d probably never really looked. “Well,” he said, swallowing hard at the way Ardyn was practically undressing him with his eyes. “That is true, still a, few close scrapes are,” he swallowed again. He felt like the other man was just sitting there reeling him in. He didn’t even have to ask him to come closer, Cor could feel it.

When all his words got caught in his throat, he gave up and stood, pushing his chair away, and moved to the counter. Ardyn was a little taller than him, sitting up there, and Cor tangled one hand into his hair, pulled him down to kiss him, grabbing the man’s hip with his other hand. “If you want to look,” he mumbled. “You’re more than welcome to.”

\--

Cor was flushing, the red creeping up his face from his bare neck, staining his tan skin. Ardyn had apparently managed to disconnect the man’s brain from his mouth and he smiled all-too-sweetly as he watched Cor stumble helplessly over his words. Cor fumbled for a few moments longer, then finally gave up and stood, coming over to the counter. Like this, Ardyn was a good bit taller than him, and Cor made up for it by dragging him down by his hair, Ardyn grabbing his shoulders to hang on. Cor’s hands were warm through his clothes, and he wanted more of that touch.

“I remember the old ones perfectly well,” he murmured against the other man’s mouth, hands sliding down the front of his shirt to ruck the hem up again, fingers tracing the sensitive skin along the waistband of his trousers. “It’s the new ones I’m curious about.”

\--

Ardyn grabbed his shoulders, slid his hands down his shirt and rucked it up, fingers gliding along his waistband, and Cor shuddered at the touch. “Ah…,” he muttered, touched beyond belief that Ardyn remembered his old scars, that he’d been paying that close attention, even back then.

It was just too much, he’d wanted him so badly for so long and now that things were good between them again and he was allowed, he pressed his hands to Ardyn’s hips, reached around to grab his ass and scoop him closer, up off the counter and into his arms. Still holding him up as he pressed him back against it, face pressed to the other man’s neck, he shoved his nose under his collar and his scarves and his hair to kiss his skin. “I want to take you to bed with me,” he mumbled. Before, three years ago, he would have gladly shoved him against the counter and taken him right there. But now, after so much had happened between them, he wanted to do it more slowly, and more comfortably than that.

\--

Cor tucked his face into the side of his neck, stubble ghosting over his skin, and dragged Ardyn off of the counter and into his arms. Reflexively, he locked his legs around the other man’s waist, ankles at the small of his back, and held on tight with his knees. Ardyn kissed the top of his head. “What,” he murmured, “Not going to just fuck me on your counter and make a mess of your kitchen?” He wouldn’t have minded, even if he’d regretted it later when his hips ached like a bitch. But if that was what Cor wanted—

Ardyn got his hands out from under the other man’s shirt, pulled his face up, and kissed him. “You’ve still never properly undressed me,” he said, between kisses, biting Cor’s lower lip. Gently. He seemed to want gently, although Ardyn hoped that wasn’t a long-term change. “First time for everything.”

\--

Ardyn’s legs locked around his waist, pressing his lips to the top of his head, and Cor nipped gently at the side of his neck. “Just this once,” he promised, “Next time, I’ll fuck you on whatever wall or surface you want. But… it’s been almost four years.” And he hadn’t been with anyone in all that time, and they’d fought so much. Just this one time, he wanted it, _needed_ it, a little more gently.

Ardyn turned his face up, kissed him, and Cor kissed him back, nipped back just as soft at his mouth. “That’s true,” he muttered. “I’m looking forward to pulling you out of all those layers.”

Leaning up to kiss him again, still holding him up, he pulled him away from the counter, balancing Ardyn’s weight against him. He carried him like that, carefully, out of the kitchen and around the corner into his bedroom, until he could topple him over onto the mattress. Cor followed after, leaning down over him, pinning him to the bed, and kissed him again, harder, sliding his hands under the lapels of his coat to get it over his shoulders, tugging at his scarf and disentangling it from around his neck.

\--

Ardyn laughed. _Next time_. At least they were on the same page; at least they had this back. He had missed it; missed _this_. Missed Cor.

He wasn’t entirely sure how Cor managed to get them through the apartment, as small as it was, because Ardyn wasn’t exactly _light_ , but he did. When they got to the other man’s bed, they toppled over into a pile of clothes and limbs, and Ardyn dragged Cor over him with his good ankle, hands sliding back under his shirt, clawing it up from the inside, and shifted to let the other man get his coat off, his scarves mostly going with it, Cor pulling the last one free. In return, Ardyn pulled the other man’s shirt up above his nipples, and dug his nails in around the hard buds, just to squeeze the other man’s chest. He had such big, soft pecs.

\--

Ardyn dragged him closer with his knees, and Cor pressed their hips together, shifting down against him, moaning quietly. He was half hard and hot all over but it had been so long he was determined to make it last. Ardyn was dragging up his shirt again, fingers digging into his nipples and Cor groaned and arched against his hands, rolled their hips together. He let go of Ardyn just long enough to get his own shirt off, wrestling it over his head.

He dragged Ardyn’s scarf the rest of the way free, let it fall over the side of the bed, and started on his waistcoat, undoing the buttons, pulling it open and pushing it off his shoulders as he kissed him. Then he slid his hands beneath his shirt, palms against his warm skin as he pushed it up over his chest. He felt so thin, thinner than he remembered. He could feel each rib with his fingers, and the rise and fall of his chest. “I missed you,” he muttered against his lips, pressing their noses and their foreheads together, “so much. I’ve been wanting this again for so long.”

\--

Cor struggled to get his shirt off over his head, tossed it away, and came back as Ardyn was sitting up onto his elbows to struggle his waistcoat off. Cor rucked his shirt up, pleats folding until it was up at the top of his chest. The way the other man talked left his throat tight, and Ardyn dragged him down by the back of his neck rather than try to find words to respond, sucking at his tongue, before he pulled back and shrugged the rest of the way out of his shirt.

Pinned to the mattress as he was by Cor on his legs, Ardyn couldn’t move much, but he stared up at the other man over him, and after a moment, reached up to trace a few new scars on his chest—one, fairly recent and still red, from the daemon in Insomnia. Others, not so recent, growing older. The Immortal was a fitting title; Cor had survived things most men never dreamed of. “You’ve lost weight,” Ardyn said at last, glancing up to meet his blue, blue eyes. His pantry had been surprisingly empty. “Are you giving your rations to Iris?”

\--

Ardyn dragged him down again, kissing him harder, sucking at his tongue, and Cor moaned into the kiss, deepening it as much as he could. When they pulled back, Ardyn shrugged out of his shirt and Cor took a moment to look down at him, to catch his breath. He had him pinned down by his legs and hips, and he leaned up on one arm to watch his face, his eyes, as Ardyn watched him.

He could see the other man’s gaze drifting over his chest, fingers tracing his scars. It was surprisingly intimate, coming from him, and Cor leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his temple, nosing at his hairline.

He pulled back again to look at him when Ardyn pointed out that he’d lost weight. He sighed. “No more farms and no more daylight,” he said slowly, “means no more food. They’re trying to grow things in the city, and sometimes the hunters bring back animals and fish, but to feed this many people…” Well, they were finding ways, but it was difficult. “And admittedly I… may have given her my rations once or twice.” He smiled a little, ran his palm over Ardyn’s ribs again, thumb ghosting over one nipple. Ardyn wasn’t exactly in the best shape either, but he was also immortal. It was different. And Cor now knew how sick he was, on top of that. Or...better, how sick he _had_ been, before his Fall.

Sliding his hand down to the other man’s hip, Cor slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers. He’d almost forgotten how gorgeous Ardyn looked with his hair spread out across the pillow, his pupils wide and his lips parted. “Don’t worry about me,” he mumbled, leaning down to kiss him again.

\--

Cor nosed at his hairline before he pulled back to look down at Ardyn. He felt a hot burn of shame at the back of his throat at the admission about the loss of food, and he wished—he wished he could do more. He wished he had been able to do anything at all. “Well,” he murmured, a low noise building somewhere in his chest as Cor thumbed one of his nipples, “She’s a growing girl, I suppose.”

Cor had his fingers beneath his belt, pulling on the top of his slacks, and Ardyn fumbled one-handed to get his belt off so that Cor could unbutton his fly. He leaned up into the kiss, grunted. “Too late,” he admitted, looking up into Cor’s bright eyes, lit by the light from the kitchen. “You’re fragile, and I l—” the word he had been about to say choked off. He couldn’t open his mouth again. “Would. Miss you. If you were gone.”

\--

He saw the look on the other man’s face, the sudden wave of guilt. He wanted to reassure him it wasn’t his fault but better, he decided, to do that through touches and kisses than through words.

He paused when the other man spoke, looking down at him. His chest felt too tight, his heart too large, and his breath caught in his throat. “Ardyn,” he muttered, quietly. He could feel that word on the tip of the other man’s tongue, just as it had been on Cor’s before, the last time they met.

“I know,” he whispered, leaning down over him. He lifted one hand to stroke his messy hair, gently, and cupped his cheek. “You won’t lose me.” He smiled a little at him, trying to reassure him. “They call me immortal for a reason. And you gave me something to live for. I won’t just throw that away.”

Leaning down further, he nipped gently at his lips, got his fingers on his fly and started undoing it, pulling it open. “Trust me,” he muttered, pressing his fingers against the outline of his cock through his underwear, stroking him with his thumb from base to tip.

\--

Sooner or later, one of them was going to let something unfortunate slip. Sooner or later; probably sooner. Ardyn leaned his face into Cor’s touch, the warm hand on his cheek, and closed his eyes. Let out a slow breath, tightened his fingers on the other man’s hipbones. “You all have so little _time_ ,” he hissed. “So little—”

But Cor was asking Ardyn to _trust him_ and kissing him again, dragging fingers up over his fly and tracing the shape of Ardyn’s hard cock where it was pressed up against the seam of his pants, stroking him. He made a wet noise low in the back of his throat, grabbed Cor’s cheekbones tighter, and kissed him hard enough his lips hurt. “That’s the _problem_ ,” he snapped back, pulling away to look up at Cor over him, eyes blown with arousal. “I do trust you. I do trust you, and if you somehow manage to get yourself killed before I do then I—”

\--

Ardyn leaned into his touch, fingers digging into his hips. He could only imagine, after living for so long, how short a mortal’s lifespan must seem. There was so much pain in his voice, it was all Cor could do to kiss him, to keep kissing him, and to think maybe it was best, that he outlive Ardyn. He wouldn’t have wished on him the pain of watching Cor grow old and die.

He let out a gorgeous sound when Cor touched his cock, grabbed and kissed him so hard his jaw was aching from it, and when he pulled back and looked down at Ardyn he was out of breath. To know that Ardyn trusted him made his chest feel too tight again, and he tangled one hand roughly into the other man’s hair at the back of his neck.

“I won’t,” he promised, holding his gaze. “You’ll have me. I’m yours until the end.” He leaned down to kiss him again, to shove their mouths back together, and worked the other man’s trousers down over his hips, straddled one of his thighs and rocked the two of them together.

\--

When they broke apart, Cor tangled fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck and dragged Ardyn’s head backwards until he moaned little and helpless, staring up at the other man. His cock ached; he had forgotten how good it felt to have his hair pulled like that. “Cor,” Ardyn whispered, grabbing at his hipbones, whining into his open mouth, as he lifted his hips one-legged for the other man to drag off his trousers, struggling to kick them off the side of the bed and then spreading his legs as far as he could so that Cor could straddle him, rocking their cocks together through the black cotton and carbonweave of his uniform pants.

His throat felt tight, and his erection was hard up against the base of his stomach as he grabbed for Cor’s flies and struggled with the buttons. He felt almost like he was on fire, he couldn’t stop thinking about _until the end_ and the fact that Cor wanted, needed, to stay by his side, had asked for it. Cor was his. Cor was _his_ , and Ardyn grabbed for him desperately, rocked up off of the mattress and into his mouth. “Please, Cor—”

\--

Ardyn whispered his name, moaned when he pulled on his hair, and Cor felt like he was going to lose his mind, like he could come just from Ardyn making those desperate sounds and arching against him. It made the arousal burn in his veins but there was something much deeper than that, too, an overwhelming affection he hadn’t always felt. Ardyn _wanted_ him, like no one ever had, and it made him ache terribly.

Ardyn kicked his trousers off, spread his legs for him so they could rock more easily together, and he helped him as Cor struggled with the buttons of his own fly, pulled it open and shoved his pants down around his hips to his knees, kicking them down to his ankles and off.

He kissed him desperately, like he was drowning and needed his lips to breathe, pulled Ardyn’s hips tight against his and rocked their naked cocks together, groaning. “I want to be in you,” he gasped against his lips after a moment, grinding his hips forward. “But,” he pressed their foreheads together, shoved his nose up alongside Ardyn’s and kissed him, more gently. “I want to fuck you as you really are. Without the illusions.” Cor pulled back enough to watch his eyes, stroked his hair, tangling it between his fingers. “If you’ll let me.”

\--

It took both of them to get Cor’s trousers off with Cor not getting off his lap, still straddling him, but once they managed it Ardyn pressed his face into the other man’s shoulder and kept making hot, wet noises in the back of his throat over the friction of their naked cocks against one another.

“Please, yes,” Ardyn whispered, grabbing at Cor’s hips. “I want you in me.” As he said it his body clenched, hard, his empty, hungry hole tight and wanting. He whined “Now, immediately, ten minutes ago—” Cor cut him off, soothed his impatience with a gentle kiss, hands smoothing through his hair, their foreheads pressed together.

What the other man asked stopped Ardyn’s breath in his chest, and he shuddered, hard, for a moment. If he said no, he was almost sure that was it and they were done, and he was going to have to wait until later. He had to. He had to—Ardyn let out a slow, shaky breath. Closed his eyes. Bit his lip. Nodded.

“Turn out the lights and close the curtains,” he murmured, not wanting to look at Cor. “You have to promise—” he was grasping for something, anything. “Don’t look.”

\--

Ardyn’s desperate begging and whining had him reeling, his cock desperately hard and leaking, but still, he stared down at the other man, stubborn and unmoving as he watched the indecision flicker in his eyes. Ardyn wanted to say no, Cor knew he did, but he wanted this. He wanted Ardyn as he was.

He wouldn’t complain about turning out the lights, about not looking, and nodded. “I won’t,” he said. “I’ll close my eyes, if I have to.” That did undermine the point a little bit, but at least it was something. He would accept it.

He kissed him again, nipped gently at his mouth. “I’ll come right back,” he promised, letting out a slow breath, and reluctantly pulled away from him, closed the bedroom door to block the light from the main area, and drew the curtains closed. At last, he turned out the light by the bed and slid back over him, right back to where he was, drawing Ardyn’s legs up around his hips and leaning down to kiss him. He really couldn’t see much at all in the dark, not even Ardyn’s wide, gorgeous eyes, but he knew well enough what he was doing, he could do it all through touch alone instead.

\--

Cor seemed reluctant, but Ardyn didn’t need to even say anything to hold his ground. He didn’t want Cor to see him and be disgusted—or worse yet, be unmoved, like he had always been disgusting to look upon.

Sliding up the bed to lean against the pillows, Ardyn settled on his elbows, legs splayed and his hard cock damp against the base of his stomach and watched Cor close the curtains, shut the door and then finally turn out the bedside light before he climbed back into the mattress, pinning Ardyn down with his weight. He went willingly enough, spreading his legs for Cor to press their cocks together again, hiking his good leg up so his knee was bumping against his ribs.

“It will feel different,” Ardyn warned, pulling away from Cor slightly. A lot of his disfigurement was below the skin and just visual above, but there were some things. Like the puncture in his chest, for one thing, and the shatter on the left side of his mouth, the damage to his left hip. The veins blackened by the spread of the ichor were raised a little as well, but that was more a textural difference than anything obvious. And, of course, the stains on and around his eyes. “And my eyes will glow. But none of it can hurt you.”

And, before he could turn coward, Ardyn took in a deep breath and let his illusions drop, to wear only his skin, his real skin. And nothing else.

\--

Cor groaned quietly at the feeling of their cocks pressing together again, kissed his collarbone and let him pull away. “It’s all right,” he assured him, smiling a little at the outline of him in the dark. He knew it would be different, at least a little. He expected that much.

He could only tell when the shift happened because he could hear Ardyn taking in a deep breath, letting it out again. He was so nervous, terrified that Cor would turn him away, no doubt. Then his eyes started to glow, and they were still the amber eyes he knew, just a little different. More intense, more hollow. He couldn’t see the whites anymore, only the irises, and they were slitted like a cat’s. But he could see the fear there, just as he could have seen it in his eyes before.

Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his hair, stroked it and kissed him. He didn’t taste all that much different, and he moved his hand gently down his face, a slightly different texture around his eyes, his cheeks a little more sunken in than they’d been before.

Gently, he kissed his neck, nosed at the scars he found there, and ran his hand down his chest, felt at the raised veins and rough skin, at the significantly worse scarring built up there all over him and especially in the center of his chest, and let out a slow breath. He’d been hurt so much but, he could feel the difference, could feel the extensive scarring, and he ran his fingers over it. He could have explored him all night like that but his cock still ached and he could feel Ardyn’s, just as hard, pressed against him.

“I’ve never told you that you’re gorgeous, have I?” he mumbled to him, kissing the corner of his mouth, and found that it was all disfigured there, too, sunken in and rough with scarring. He only drew back a little in surprise because he couldn’t see it, then leaned in to kiss him there again, and then his lips.

Of course, he still didn’t have any lube, and given Ardyn’s preferences he guessed he didn’t care, so he sucked on his own fingers for a moment, brought them down between them and prodded, finally, at his entrance, working them inside.

\--

He was breathing shallowly as Cor examined him with his hands. Cor couldn’t see in the dark, but Ardyn could—had been able to for years regardless of what he looked like. So he could see the consternation of the other man’s expression, the fascination, as his hands skimmed over Ardyn’s face, followed by his lips before the touch moved down to his chest, tracing gently over the pit on his chest. “Be gentle,” Ardyn murmured. “It’s sensitive there.” That was part of why he wore so many clothes; never let his illusions drop. He was more scars than skin now, had been for years. Had been—

In the light it was a clear weakness.

And then Cor said _that_ , kissed the side of his damaged mouth, and Ardyn had to push his face away as Cor tried to kiss him again, had to tuck his nose into the side of the other man’s neck and breathe past the sudden almost overwhelming urge to cry. “You damn man,” he murmured at last, not able to find other words for what he felt, and grabbed tight with one hand on Cor’s bicep and the other curled white-knuckled in the sheets as he felt Cor slide his fingers up behind his balls into the crack of his ass, damp fingers nudging at him before the tips of two worked inside, and Ardyn whined, closing his eyes. “Yes,” he murmured, voice hissing, clenching down on Cor’s fingers in him. “Get your gods-damned dick in me, Cor, for fuck’s sake.”

\--

Cor smiled as Ardyn cursed at him, voice thick and tense, one hand grabbing his arm tight. “Just be patient a minute longer,” he mumbled even though he knew Ardyn had none when it came to this. He pushed two fingers up into him, working them inside and twisting them. “I’ll get it in you soon.” He kissed him again, harder, as he pushed his fingers deeper inside, and then eased in a third, stretching him open. “I want it, too, Gods, you’re so hot,” he breathed. He was leaking awfully and he could feel Ardyn clenching down on him, desperate to have his cock in him. It had been so long, Cor was starving for it, too, and as soon as he had him open enough that he felt he could get his dick in him without an excessive amount of effort, he pulled his fingers out.

Grabbing his cock, he slicked himself once with spit which was just barely enough, and pressed the head up against his entrance, tugging him open with his other hand as he coaxed his cock inside. “Gods,” he gasped once he felt the head press in, the muscle’s tight around him. “Gods, Ardyn.” As soon as he had the head wedged in, he shifted his hips, pulled Ardyn tighter up against him, and slid in deeper, an inch at a time, moaning and rocking forward to push in more and more. “It’s been so long,” he half-sobbed, leaning over him and pressing their foreheads together, dragging him up to kiss him.

\--

Ardyn huffed out a laugh. “When have I ever been patient for _anything._ ” Let alone Cor, pressing his thighs apart and back, sliding cock-first into him, splitting him open and wide and spitting him like that. As soon as he’d gotten a third finger in him, Ardyn whining in little hitching breaths with every motion, he pulled his hand back and shifted away, and Ardyn opened his eyes and looked up at the other man, hungry, as he spat on his hand and slicked his cock. Ardyn spread his thighs, heel of his right foot dug into the sheets as he opened his legs for Cor. “Come on,” he whispered, jeering Cor into taking him. “You’re wasting time, Cor. You’ll grow old and die at this rate—” and Cor was pulling him open none-too-gently with his thumb, Ardyn throwing his head back with a groan. “You’re going to kill me at this rate, when are you going to—”

And Cor fucked into him. One long, too-rough press that left Ardyn closing his eyes and moaning, his elbows giving out to collapse him back against the pillows, rolling up onto the sharp angles of his shoulderblades. When Cor bent over him, fucking another inch deeper, Ardyn tightened his thighs and grunted as he planted the sole of his right foot on the other man’s ass and shoved him the rest of the way in, yelping at the too-much friction and pain of the motion as Cor kissed him, his nails digging into the back of the other man’s neck.

Ardyn clenched down on him, too-hard and too-tight, overwhelmed by how full he was. “If you don’t start fucking me Cor I am going to _personally_ eviscerate you—”

\--

Ardyn urged him on just like he used to and Cor felt the arousal burning in his bones. He wanted him so much, he’d missed this so much. Ardyn was so beautiful as Cor pressed into him, the drawn out moan making Cor moan, too. One foot pressed to his ass, shoving him in the rest of the way and Cor’s eyes widened as he rolled his hips at the friction, the sudden shove, and then he was balls deep in the warmest, tightest heat he’d ever felt, and he groaned helplessly against him, Ardyn’s fingers clawing at his neck.

Ardyn was already starting to threaten him if he didn’t fuck him and Cor suddenly couldn’t even think anymore, he just did as Ardyn asked, pulling out partway and pressing back in, moaning at the feel of it. He had a good angle, with Ardyn’s hips pressed up against him, the other man’s legs around his waist, and it was easy to start a hard, steady pace, fucking down into him, as deep as he could each time. Even though he couldn’t see him well, he watched Ardyn’s face, watched his eyes as he thrust into him. Cor was gasping for breath and flushed all over. Ardyn was so gorgeous, and Cor tangled his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck again, leaned over him and pinned him down, and fucked him harder.

\--

Ardyn saw Cor’s face shift to surprise for just a moment before he was all the way in, and then Ardyn was too focused on moaning in pain and pleasure as the other man broke him right in half, cock filling him all the way full and more, his head thrown back on the pillows and his eyes raised to the invisible stars. He hung onto Cor’s neck, his other hand in the sheets, and just smiled as he held on for the ride. Fingers pulling his head back by his hair, an angle that kept ramming Cor’s cock right up his spine and deep into him, and Ardyn was splaying his knees further, ignoring the jarring pain his hip, so that he could roll his hips down and back for more of Cor’s cock in him. It wasn’t quite right, though, the other man’s thrusts more guiding him straight up his spine and not jarring his prostate, and Ardyn groaned in frustration, grabbed for Cor’s other hand to press it to his throat, licking the tips of the other man’s fingers.

“Snap your hips up toward me,” he muttered, rolling further back onto Cor’s cock again, staring up at him with lidded eyes. “I know you can do it. Nail me until I come screaming just on your dick. Your cockhead’s so big, you won’t even have to try. Come on, Cor.” Ardyn clenched down as he said the other man’s name. “You want me to come untouched on you, don’t you?”

\--

Ardyn was beautiful with his head thrown back on the pillow and his wide glowing amber eyes staring, dazed, at the ceiling. Cor moaned when the other man spread his knees further, rolling his hips up onto his cock, and when Ardyn grabbed his hand and pressed it against his neck, Cor felt a surge of heat all through him, and he stared into those intense, slitted eyes, eyes that had seen so much, that could see right through him, and he moaned helplessly, closing his fingers around Ardyn’s throat.

He shuddered at his words, swallowed hard, and nodded. “Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, please, _please_.” He wanted that so much, wanted to watch Ardyn come undone on his cock alone. Panting, he shifted a little, rocked into him, and did as Ardyn instructed, angling up towards him as he fucked into him, to press against his prostate each time. Once he had that right, he picked up the pace again, grabbing Ardyn’s hip and pulling him closer, fucking hard into him again. And, just like he used to, he held tight to his throat, grabbed him at the top of his neck and squeezed, watching his eyes as he did it.

\--

Cor stared at him, dumbfounded, and then moaned and wrapped his fingers around Ardyn’s neck. “Just like that,” he hissed, fucking himself on Cor’s cock. When Cor finally managed to get the angle just right, though, Ardyn fell back flat on his back and just cried out with every thrust, milking Cor’s cock inside him. He had the angle perfect, his cockhead just kissing Ardyn’s prostate, and he could only see stars.

The hand on his throat was choking him, and Ardyn blinked, trying and failing to clear the spots from his vision. “Cor,” he moaned, nails digging into the other man’s wrist, the tendons and bones that were choking him. “Cor—” again and his cock was throbbing, his head was throbbing, and every too-hard scrape over his prostate left his body singing. He closed his eyes, tears pricking at the edges of his vision, as he clawed the other man closer, his balls drawn up tight as he rode the razor edge, on a wire.

\--

When he hit the right spot, Ardyn laid back, moaning every time he pushed in, and Cor gasped with each thrust, desperate and needy and shaky from the arousal, his heart pounding with it. There were sparks behind his eyes already, and he pushed down harder on Ardyn’s throat as he fucked him, as the man whispered his name, nails scraping his wrist, dragging him closer.

“Ardyn,” Cor gasped, closing his eyes just for a moment as he sobbed and pushed in hard, ground into him. He was so close, so tense, so hot, and he came without any more warning than that, shaking and moaning from it, shoving their foreheads together again, leaning in to kiss him. He rolled his hips still, fucking into him, nipping at Ardyn’s lip, squeezing his neck harder and harder, until he could feel his tendons straining from it.

\--

Cor pressed their faces together, sweat dampening his brow, and came with a sob muffled in Ardyn’s skin, kissing him with Ardyn arching up off the pillows into his mouth. He kept fucking through his orgasm, pace barely faltering, and if that and feeling Cor come hot and deep in him hadn’t done it, the hand on his neck, air bottled up in his throat and pressure behind his eyes did. He dug his nails into Cor’s wrist to bleeding, and came, seizing up and clenching down just-this-side of too hard on Cor’s cock. Ardyn closed his eyes against the darkness and moaned. He could feel his own come hot on the bottom of his stomach, his cock throbbing as he spurted, and Ardyn pressed his forehead against Cor’s, whispered out of his ragged, bruised throat—

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

\--

Ardyn’s nails were drawing blood, and Cor opened his eyes to meet his gaze, to watch those cat-like eyes as they glazed over. He sighed as he felt Ardyn come against him, tensing up all over, clenching so tight on his cock he whined, still reeling as he came down from his orgasm. Only then did he stop thrusting, settling inside him instead, and let go of his throat, tangling his fingers into his hair.

At his words, Cor let out a quiet breath like he’d been punched in the gut and leaned down to kiss him, coaxing his lips apart to deepen it, pressing their tongues together. Ardyn whispering those words, willingly giving himself to him after Cor had done the same, made his heart ache and feel full, like it might burst from the affection building up in his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered to him, “Ardyn.” He pressed their faces together, breathing in and out, slowly. And then, just as slowly, he eased his cock out of him and laid down, their chests pressed together, his face tucked against the side of the other man’s neck, fingers still stroking his hair.

When he’d caught his breath, he leaned up on one elbow, watched his eyes, and decided to do something that was, honestly, a little bit mean. But would Ardyn ever show him what he looked like if he didn’t do this now? He knew the answer was no, and it was important to him, and to their relationship, whatever it was, that he know. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise, he’d felt some of the scarring and disfiguration with his fingers, he just wanted to _see_ it.

So, he rolled off him a little, keeping his eyes trained carefully on Ardyn as the other man relaxed, reached over and turned on the light.

\--

Ardyn grabbed at Cor as the other man kissed him, still riding the high of his orgasm, and turned his face into the pillow to wheeze for breath, sliding his fingers around to hold Cor’s hand instead rather than accidentally stab him. When the other man pulled his cock free and laid down, Ardyn let his legs slip flat to the mattress and let out the most awful, wrecked noise as his femur ground against the socket with a quiet, creaking noise. He was going to be sore for days, overwhelmed and overwrought. He loved it. Their faces turned together, Cor’s breath on his neck, their knees and ankles tangled—he’d forgotten how much different he felt, with human contact. With someone who cared.

Sighing and getting comfortable, Ardyn put his other hand on his stomach and just let the afterglow take him as Cor rolled away slightly, sitting up. Probably trying to grab something to wipe them both up in the dark, no doubt.

And then, behind his eyelids, light bloomed. The bedside lamp. “Cor!” Ardyn bellowed, scrambling to grab the blankets, sliding halfway under them come and all, clutching them as far up his chest as he could easily reach, even as he drew back up the magic for his illusion. He was too shaky and overwhelmed in the afterglow, though, and not able to concentrate nearly well enough—it fell to shreds in his hands and barely managed to get the proper skin tone right, so he just let it go and instead crawled halfway across the other man’s bed, vindictively getting bloody come on his sheets, to glower at Cor angrily from the blanket he now had dragged up to his shoulders. “You _son of a bitch._ ” He was so furious his eyes were burning with unshed, angry tears. “You promised!” You couldn’t just go around proclaiming about trust and then _immediately fucking break it_.

\--

He did feel bad. It wasn’t, maybe, the best decision, to startle him right when he was getting comfortable, fucked out and happy and relaxed for once. But even as Ardyn yelled, he was a little distracted. He could see him clearly now, his face, and what he’d felt of it in the dark. The whites of his eyes weren’t gone completely, just turned black, black as the night sky hanging heavy outside. There was black, too, around his eyes, trails of black across his face, especially around the corner of his mouth where it was dark and disfigured. His skin was paler and it made the dark veins running underneath stand out, but his hair was the same. He was… not nearly as ugly as he seemed to think he was.

But Ardyn was furious, and Cor wasn’t at all surprised. He watched as Ardyn tried to illusion himself again, his features beginning to shift for a moment, only to fail miserably and end up back as he was.

“Ardyn,” he tried to say, sternly, as the other man scrambled and slid under the blankets, dragging it up to his shoulders. Cor sighed. His sheets were going to be a mess, but that was just punishment, he supposed.

“I’m sorry,” he said then. Ardyn was righteously angry, black inky tears threatening at the edges of his eyes. “You never would have shown me otherwise, and,” he sighed again, ran one hand back roughly through his hair. “Listen, Ardyn, I don’t want you to be constantly afraid that I’m going to throw you away if I so much as get a glimpse of what you really look like.” He met his eyes, softened, smiled. Even as angry as Ardyn was, Cor felt he was being a little bit overdramatic, but that was just like him. “See?” he muttered, reaching out to touch his chin gently, rubbing his thumb along his jawline. “I don’t mind at all. You’re beautiful to me, even now.”

\--

He was as angry as a wet cat, and snarled back, “Don’t _Ardyn_ me, Cor!” If Cor had been close enough, Ardyn probably would have kicked him. “You spend all this damn time going on about how I should stop fucking lying to you and the minute I do you go and do this like—” he was so angry he petered off into growling. “This,” Ardyn snapped, “does not define _trust._ ”

Even Cor’s apology didn’t help. “You should be.” Cor was still looking at him, though, smiling, and Ardyn wanted to both hit him and burst into tears. His nonchalant, callous, nature had been shredded, and even his usual total lack of care fell apart in the face of this. When Cor reached out to take his chin, Ardyn let out a shaky breath and had to seriously stop himself from biting the extended olive branch of a hand, the thumb stroking over his stubble.

“What I look like to you isn’t the point,” he said, jerking his chin back from Cor’s too-gentle touch. “I knew you were going to pull the _always beautiful to me_ nonsense. It’s that _I_ hate what I look like, Cor. It’s that _I_ don’t need to be reminded of your ill-conceived pity and regret when I can’t stand myself. If I can’t deal with it, you shouldn’t have to either.”

\--

He knew, he knew he’d broken his promise not to look. Ardyn had trusted him with this much and that… was probably the worst possible thing he could have done in that moment, right when they had fixed everything, for the most part. Not even trying to be gentle with him helped, and he drew his hand back when Ardyn jerked his chin away, still hissing and spitting at him.

“It isn’t pity,” he said, watching him carefully. It wasn’t. He didn’t want to say what it was. But, he didn’t want to argue about it either, he was tired of arguing. They’d spent three years arguing. So he sat on the bed and kept his hands to himself.

“All right,” he said after a moment. “I’m sorry. That was.. Uncalled for. You’re right.” It wasn’t exactly something he could ever fully understand, and he knew that. He reached over and turned the light out again, sat back on the bed and looked over at Ardyn, still shoved mostly beneath the sheets. “Take your time. Let me know when I can turn the light on again.”

\--

The problem with staying angry at Cor was that it was basically impossible. The man was too damn _nice_ when he wanted to be; for all his gruff bluster Cor really did do the best he could. Ardyn sighed after the other man turned off the light, and tucked his face into his hands for a minute, sighed.

“Just turn it back on,” he grumbled, foul-tempered. The cat had been let out of the bag now. He had best just own up to it being his cat. “You’ve seen some, so you might as well see the rest of it.” Ardyn scratched at the top of his head, rubbed his eyes, and fingercombed his hair to lay flat as he, more awkwardly than he would have liked, let the blanket drop down to his lap and kicked it partway off, self-consciously hiding the worst of his injuries by putting his hand over the divot on his hip, pressing the other to his breastbone. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

\--

The real problem was, Cor had no idea how to handle the situation. Ardyn was difficult, and he wasn’t used to being in relationships this close. He was awkward at best, unless he was fighting, or working, and even then. So, when Ardyn told him to turn it back on, he hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked. But Ardyn did seem sure, he was even kicking off the blankets.

So, he reached back over, turned the light on, and looked over at him. He’d already seen his face, but now, his eyes gravitated to the massive scarring all across his torso. His entire body was covered in scars, like the ones he’d felt around his chest and at the corners of his lips, black and leaking ooze. Ardyn had one hand pressed to his chest, the other to his hip, where Cor noticed the scarring was even worse. “I thought it wasn’t my opinion you were worried about,” he muttered, rolling onto his side and leaning up on one arm next to him. He’d touched that scar on his chest earlier, as he’d moved his hands across his skin. It was the one Ardyn had told him to be careful of.

He reached it out to touch it again, gently resting his hand next to Ardyn’s. “From the Armiger?” he whispered, in sudden fascinated understanding. He’d seen the first of the weapons pierce Noctis in the exact same place. But he’d thought all of the damage done to Ardyn had been from healing daemons.

\--

It took a moment for Cor to turn the light back on, and Ardyn glowered at him as soon as he had, glaring. “I’m sure,” he huffed, in a bad mood, and leaned back against the headboard, pulling his feet up under him as Cor settled further onto the bed next to him. “It’s not pretty, Marshal. I would hate to offend your delicate sensibilities, or worse, rile your stomach.” His voice was dying out, though, as Cor shifted closer. He’d stopped looking at Ardyn’s face, and was instead staring at the mark from the Armiger.

“Yes.” He looked down at it; the better part of his sternum, and worryingly scooped inward, the edges jagged and rough. “It won’t scar Noctis in the same way; it only did so for me because the daemon blood heals any damage to me.” He lifted a hand, traced the many hairline scars that bisected his neck. Part of why he wore so many scarves. “It marks where it does.”

\--

He was in a terrible mood, and Cor wasn’t about to push him any further, not at the moment. At worst, he might have teased him a little, but now really wasn’t the time. He was too busy looking at his skin, at his scars. “A little scarring won’t rile my stomach,” he mumbled, even though it was far from a _little_ scarring. “I stuck with you through all of this.” He glanced up at his eyes, then back down at his chest.

The mark from the Armiger really was worryingly dark and unhealthy-looking. It didn’t bother him much at all, though. He was more fascinated than anything. “I see.” He followed Ardyn’s fingers to where he motioned to the scars around his neck. Those, Cor had felt too, though he hadn’t understood what they were from, and he reached out to touch them gently. There were many, and he felt a sudden stab of guilt. “Some of these are from me, then.” All those times he’d killed him. He looked down at his stomach next, found the scars there, from when he’s stabbed him through, accompanied by numerous others. “How many times have you died?” It was partly rhetorical. He could guess at the answer well enough.

\--

It was more than a little scarring, but all right. Cor had stuck with him so far, and Ardyn did his best to admit his affection for that by brushing his fingers through the other man’s hair, fixing the strands where they were sprawled across his face.

The dawning realisation as Cor put together the pieces was painful in a way that Ardyn hadn’t expected it to be. “Yes,” he said at last, watching the tightness by Cor’s damn blue eyes. “But to tell the truth, I couldn’t tell you which.” At Cor’s question he looked down at himself and the beyond-counting injuries he had taken through the years, and finally settled on a shrug. “I lost count a long time ago. It matters little.”

\--

Ardyn brushed his fingers gently through Cor’s hair and Cor leaned into it, humming quietly as he took in all of Ardyn’s scars and black veins and pale skin. There was another large scar amid all the smaller ones, a gash across his hip that Ardyn had covered with his hand, and Cor’s gaze fell there at last. 

Admittedly, he’d always noticed something a bit off about the way Ardyn walked, and there had always been a bit of stiffness in his thigh and hip when they had sex, just not enough that he’d ever wanted to comment on it. But as he stared at that scar, resting his fingers near it, he started to realize the way Ardyn moved about wasn’t only because he was being performative, and the stiffness, from an injury that bad, must have been much worse than he’d ever let on before.

“And this,” he asked quietly. “What was this one from?”

\--

Ardyn knew the moment that Cor realised there was something wrong with his leg, because the other man narrowed in on it and froze, and Ardyn only reluctantly moved his hand. That scar was near as bad as the one from the Armiger, notched halfway over his pelvis, black and ugly. The bone had never healed right, even through all the times he had come back, and the damage under his skin was even worse, muscles and bones distorted slightly. He didn’t want to answer; did not want to bare that part of him, but Cor had a right to know at least the extent of it.

“Someone tried to cut my leg off,” he settled on, fingers grazing the old wound. “As you can see, they...didn’t quite succeed.”

\--

Cor frowned, gently touching the edges of the scar. “I… see,” he muttered. It did look painful, it was a nasty scar. “Then, that explains…” He thought back, thought about the way Ardyn moved, the way he favored that leg just a little. Although, probably more than he realized. He pulled his hand away. “It still hurts, doesn’t it? You should have told me,” he said quietly. “I would have been more careful, all this time.”

\--

Cor touched it, gently, and Ardyn shuddered hard all over, caught Cor’s hand, and pulled it away. “Don’t,” he ordered harshly, not breaking eye contact as he spoke. “Let it be.” It pained him, every day of his immortal damn life. He didn’t need Cor making it worse. Fortunately, the Marshal pulled his hand away, knowing better than to push his luck. “I didn’t want you to know. I can deal with it myself, Cor. I meant it, when I told you not to treat me like I’m glass.”

\--

“I know,” Cor muttered. “Still.” He didn’t want to treat him like he was fragile, he knew Ardyn didn’t want that. So, he wouldn’t. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry a little, but he let it be, before the other man got even more irritated with him.

Instead, he moved his fingers down across Ardyn’s stomach. What was plastered there, sticking in his hair around the base of his stomach, was black. He frowned in confusion and looked up at him, raising his eyebrows. “You come black?”

He… wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It felt like the same consistency but… he’d _swallowed_ that, and that was more disconcerting than all of Ardyn’s scars. But, given the black veins that showed through his skin, he bled black, too.

Cor sighed after a moment. At least his sheets were black. “Well,” he said quietly. “At least it matches my sheets. And my uniform.” He smiled a little, running his hand up Ardyn’s chest again, looking at his arm, where the veins stood out the most, then at his lips, at his eyes. “Thank you for showing me.” He leaned in, kissed him gently. “I know you’re angry, but it means a lot to me.”

\--

Ardyn laughed aloud at the look of disconcerted consternation on Cor’s face. He had known that the other man would be nonplussed by that. “What,” he grinned, “I cry black, I bleed black, my _spit_ is black, and you expected my come to still be white.” He just shook his head; would wonders never cease?

Cor somehow managed to find an upside in all of it, and Ardyn sighed, slid down in the sheets slightly so that he was closer to the other man when Cor leaned up to kiss him. Ardyn didn’t return it, but it was more for formality’s sake than any real ire. “And that is the only reason I let you see,” he huffed, holding up his left arm. He turned it over to show Cor the blackened nail beds of his middle and ring finger, and the long black veins that now discoloured the top of his left hand. “That’s from the daemon in Insomnia.”

\--

Ardyn didn’t kiss him back but he didn’t mind so much. He knew he’d upset him. At the least, he slid down so they were a little closer. “I know.” Cor sighed.

Leaning his head on one hand, he stared at the other man’s arm when he held it up to show him. Two of the nail beds there were black, as black as the discoloration on his face and his scars. From those fingers stretched deep black veins that were raised slightly against his skin, trailing down his hand and arm.

Cor let out a breath like he’d been punched in the gut when Ardyn said what had caused it. His mouth opened and closed a little but he didn’t know what to say. An apology was far from the right thing, but Ardyn had healed that daemon for his sake.

He took the other man’s hand in his, tangled their fingers together, and gently squeezed it. Bringing Ardyn’s hand to his lips, he kissed the back, where the veins were most prominent, and let that gesture speak for him.

\--

Cor looked like Ardyn had just punched him in the gut, and he hesitated at the force of that expression. “It’s not your fault,” Ardyn said, unthinking. “You did not make me.” He had made that decision all on his own. The only person to blame was him.

He could easily have killed that daemon.

Cor took his hand, squeezed their fingers together, and softly kissed the back, over the two blackened veins. When he did it, Ardyn’s breath froze in his chest, and he felt oddly displaced. Like someone had ripped the rug out from under him. He quivered in indecision for a moment, before he broke the hold on his hand and grabbed Cor’s face.

Somehow, something about that single gesture had done more for him in that moment than anything the other man could have ever said, any explanation he could have ever given. More than his quiet horror but mute acceptance of Ardyn’s body, or the fact that he’d forgiven what Ardyn had done to the world regardless of his desires for it, _this—_

Rather than try to find words for something for which he did not have any words, Ardyn grabbed Cor’s face in both his hands and dragged him over until he could kiss the other man, their noses inelegantly mashed, his fingers sliding into Cor’s short, greying hair. “You are a terrible man,” he muttered, voice shaking. “I can’t even stay properly angry with you.”

\--

He knew it wasn’t his fault. But still. If he’d been more together back then, it wouldn’t have had to happen. Of course if it hadn’t, he doubted he and Ardyn ever would have repaired what little of their shattered relationship was left.

When he kissed his hand, he felt the other man tense, freeze, and the look in his eyes made Cor ache all over for him. Then, Ardyn grabbed his face, pulled him over, and Cor went willingly, leaning down over him to kiss him back, shoving their faces together as Ardyn’s fingers slid into his hair. That gesture, it seemed, had been able to convey everything he felt, and carried it well, and that kiss did the same. He felt warm all over and closed his eyes, pressed their foreheads together and let out a quiet half-laugh. “I do my best,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss him again. He’d never been especially good at saying how he felt in words, and he still had no idea what to call their relationship, but he didn’t mind that so much. It was what they both needed, that was what mattered. “So,” he said slowly. “Tonight, will you stay? Or are you planning on disappearing on me again?”

\--

Cor came willingly, leaning over him, a warm presence blocking out the yellow stain of the light. When they stopped kissing, Cor was on his elbows over him, the grey in his hair silver in the lamplight, and Ardyn ran his hands down the other man’s sides without saying anything, feeling the shift of muscle and bone under his skin.

“If you want me to.” Ardyn felt a smile playing on one side of his mouth; the side that was still there. “You are getting a little on in years, Marshal, to be up to that twice in a night, but I suppose if you _want_ to I can hardly say no…” How long, he wondered, did they have before Noctis woke up? It could be tomorrow, it could be in a hundred years. Would Ardyn have to see Cor grow old and die before the King of Light awoke, or would he never get to see the man again?

Their lives were in a constant state of flux, one that Ardyn found was all the more exhilarating for it.

“I’ll stay,” he said at last, serious for once in his life. “I’ll likely not sleep; I’ve done too much of it of late. But I will stay, with you.”

\--

Ardyn’s hands ran down his sides, over his ribs, and he enjoyed the feel of it, warm hands on his skin. Ardyn always touched him like that, reverently, and it made his breath catch in his throat.

When he said he would, he smiled just a little, and at what he suggested, Cor felt himself flush, hard, as he frowned. “ _Ardyn_ ,” he ground out, because he _knew_ the other man was teasing him. He hadn’t meant it like that and Ardyn knew it. “Wait until morning at least.”

It was nice, though, to accept it as only teasing, without the confusion and the underlying currents of hate he’d had for him when they first met. He couldn’t feel that way anymore, not now that he knew everything, even if he still didn’t like some of it. He could accept Ardyn as who he was, and enjoy his company, for however long they had left together.

After a moment, as the other man responded, seriously, Cor sighed in content acceptance and rolled off him onto his side again, head on the pillow. “That’s all right,” he muttered. He supposed the sleep cycle of an immortal must be much different, and nodded. “I don’t mind.”

\--

Ardyn fluttered his lashes at Cor. “You’re going to leave me high and dry, then, Marshal?” He wasn’t sure he was up for it either; he just wanted to tease the other man.

When Cor rolled away, Ardyn gingerly shifted around the wet spots on the sheets until he found a comfortable place next to Cor, stretched his legs out under the blankets to curl his toes in the sheets, smiled.

He could get used to this.

\--

Cor snorted at him, but he did smile a little. “Oh, please,” he mumbled, reaching over to turn the light out, then getting comfortable and pulling the blankets up. Ardyn shifted around him, curled up next to him and, like that, warm against him, it was easy enough to fall asleep.


	10. it will be you who wears the crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My King,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “You’re my King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [muse's "i belong to you / mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQoqM7l-vlQ)

After that, Ardyn hung around his apartment more than he’d expected. Much like a cat who he’d fed once and then decided to stay, he often came home in the evenings to the other man sitting in the window, and he was more glad than ever that he’d decided to make his apartment off-limits to literally everyone else. He knew they were suspicious about that and he didn’t particularly care. He liked having Ardyn around, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Since they were in something like a relationship, though, he finally buckled down and managed to get them some lube. It wasn’t easy, and he ended up doing it through a hunter he knew who knew someone in the city who knew someone _else_ who could provide it, then met with that person to pay for it. And for all the trouble he’d gone through, he intended to use it at least once, despite Ardyn’s particular tastes for getting fucked without it.

When he came home that evening, closing the door behind him and locking it, he started shedding his coat as he always did, and Ardyn was there, as he’d thought he might be. “I brought you something,” he said, by way of greeting. “I’m not sure what you’ll think.” Not at first, at least.

\--

Cor came home, and Ardyn murmured a greeting, chin on his hand as he watched a couple of kids play hopscotch outside in the market far below. Times changed, but people never did, and it was reassuring in a great many ways. He was surprised by Cor telling him he’d gotten something, though, and he turned around to look at the other man, stripping out of his uniform.

Ardyn cocked an eyebrow. “That makes it sound like it’s something I wouldn’t like.” He pushed himself to his feet, carefully balancing back onto his good leg and flipped his hair as he came over to lean against the other man’s counter, letting it take his weight. “Now you have me nervous.”

\--

Cor shrugged. “I mean what I said. I’m not sure what you’ll think.” He didn’t exactly think he _wouldn’t_ like it, and he watched Ardyn rise and flip his hair and cross the room at his usual saunter to lean against the counter.

Cor hung his coat on the back of the chair, then dug in the pocket to pull out a small bottle, holding it up and shaking it gently. “Lube,” he said, because that was exactly what it was. “And it was much harder than you’d think to get, so we’d better use it.” If they ended up using it a lot, he was fairly certain he could get more, but he hadn’t wanted to without presenting it to Ardyn first.

\--

Cor pulled a tiny bottle out of his pocket, and Ardyn blinked at it. “You could just use olive oil. That’s what we always used to do.” Back before it was just easy enough for him to deal with the tears in the morning. Nothing was ever long-term with his body. But still, Cor had taken the time to do that, for him. At least it would probably smell better; he’d never been particularly partial to olive oil even as a young man.

Ardyn sighed, as if put-upon, and shrugged. “Well, I suppose if you have some investment, I can give it a try. Can’t let it go to waste.” He hopped up onto the counter as he said it and watched Cor, patiently. “Why; did you have something specific in mind for it?”

\--

Cor frowned in thought. He’d never considered using olive oil, although, that may be difficult to get, too. Ardyn was putting on his ‘oh if I absolutely must’ act and Cor sighed at him, moved over to stand before him as he jumped up to sit on the counter. He put one hand on the other man’s knee, gently slid it up his thigh. “I had a thought,” he admitted, “Yes. I know you don’t care if I fuck you with lube or not but… I was thinking…” He set the bottle on the counter, looked up at Ardyn, and considered how much he _liked_ looking up at him. With Ardyn sitting so comfortably on the counter, staring down at him, Cor felt himself relax, and he leaned towards him. “I could get all my fingers in you,” he continued, “and fuck you like that. If you’ll let me.”

\--

Cor came over to look up at him, his blue eyes bright, and Ardyn waited patiently, hands on the other man’s shoulders as Cor explained his plan. “I,” Ardyn murmured at last, ignoring the heat in the pit of his stomach, “Quite like the sound of that.” It was hard for Cor to get more than two fingers in him normally so the thought of three—of _four_ —how open he would be and—

He took in an abrupt breath.

“Yes,” Ardyn said instead. “Yes, you can definitely do this. Right now. Immediately.” He grabbed Cor’s jaw and pulled him up to kiss him once, bruising. He had taken to shedding some of his outer layers, just down to his waistcoat, and that particular muggy dark morning he was down to just his shirt and trousers, so it wasn’t like Cor had to unwrap him like a demented present. So it wouldn’t be unheard of for—

“Right here?”

\--

Cor let out a slow, shaky breath as he watched the other man’s eyes when he said he liked the idea. The look on his face as he went from quiet contemplation to a more desperate need, breath hitching, pupils dilating, made Cor’s breath catch in his throat.

“Yes,” Cor agreed, letting out a hard breath of his own, and he tilted his face up into his hands when Ardyn grabbed his jaw, kissing him back. Grabbing the other man’s hips, he tugged him closer, standing between his thighs, and slid his fingers under his shirt to grab the waistband of his trousers.

“Right here,” he muttered, nodding. “Now. Yes.” He got his fingers to the front of the other man’s trousers, undid his fly, coaxed his pants down around his hips. The idea of finger-fucking him like that on the counter made his heart pound, made the pit of his stomach burn, and he reached up to grab his hair, to pull him down and kiss him again.

\--

Cor tilted up toward him, dragged him until his hips were off the edge of the counter, and by the time Ardyn had regained his awkward balance, white-knuckled, glad that Cor was taking the weight off of his badly damaged hipbone and femur, Cor was standing flush up against him between his thighs, dragging on the waistband of his slacks. “Okay,” Ardyn gasped back, pushing up with his arms to lift his hips so that Cor could pull his trousers down, shoving his boxers off as Cor tangled fingers too-tight in his wild hair and jerked his head down, Ardyn moaning into his open mouth at the tug on the back of his neck, grabbing for Cor’s shoulders as something, anything, to hang onto.

The thought, the arousal and need, was hot in the pit of his stomach, and Ardyn bit his lower lip for a moment as he shifted, shaking down his slacks to his ankles and off onto the floor, before he parted his thighs and dragged Cor up closer, his half-hard erection rubbing damp over the seam of the other man’s fly.

\--

Cor tugged his trousers and boxers down, kissed him open-mouthed and deep, shuddering at the way Ardyn moaned into it. The other man grabbed at his shoulders, bit his lip, and Cor nipped back at his mouth. Then Ardyn shook his trousers off to the floor so Cor could press in close again, Ardyn’s erection against his fly. Grabbing Ardyn’s thighs, he pressed his fingers against his skin, slid them up the insides, coaxing his legs open further.

He groaned, quietly, took the other man’s cock in his hand and gently stroked him from base to tip, squeezing the head in his palm, rolling their hips together. He was panting already, his own cock pressed against the front of his slacks, and he reached over blindly for the lube, still leaning up to kiss him.

Twisting the cap off, he poured some of it onto his fingers. It was cold and wet, and he let it warm for a moment before he brought his hand between them and up under the other man’s balls, rubbing the lube against his entrance and pressing two fingers right in, twisting them up into him.

\--

Cor pulled his thighs further open, and Ardyn just huffed out a breath of laughter before he shifted slightly on the counter, curling his toes into the wood of the cabinets below, spreading his legs as far as they could comfortably go before his hip twinged with his ass almost off the edge of the counter. “You want to tie my legs like this, Marshal, or are you going to just live if I knee you in the jaw?” He wouldn’t say _no_ to Cor tying his legs wide open to get at him. In fact, he would likely say the opposite. As long as neither one of them did something stupid with his hip.

Cor was fumbling with the lube on the counter as they kissed, cock grinding against Ardyn’s own through his slacks, and then when his fingers skated along the underside of his cock and up behind his balls, fingertips pressing into his entrance, Ardyn grunted at the chill, but the noise turned softer, _wetter_ , as Cor slid two fingers up into him as easy as breathing, twisting right in. “Oh,” he murmured, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling as the fingers of one of his hands fisted tight in the short hair at the nape of Cor’s neck, the other white-knuckled on his shoulder as Ardyn held on for dear life. “Oh, that’s easy.”

\--

Cor let out a quick, shaky breath at the not-so-subtle suggestion to tie his legs in place. “I—,” he got out, and it caught in his throat, because the idea made his cock throb and the way Ardyn looked at him when he said it made him even harder. He didn’t even have anything to tie him up with but he considered it more and more as he got his fingers into him, twisting the two in deep. Ardyn was making gorgeous wet noises, and Cor’s heart was pounding from the arousal and the desperate desire to pin him there and fuck him endlessly.

Ardyn’s fingers curled into the hair at the back of his neck, grabbed tight to his shoulder, and Cor leaned towards him, spreading his fingers inside him. “Yeah,” he muttered. That was what lube was for, anyway, but it _was_ a good feeling. Normally he had to shove hard to get his fingers into him, but now it was remarkably easy, and he wanted more of it, wanted to fuck him open until he was so far gone he couldn’t speak.

He leaned into his good thigh, holding his legs apart as started moving his fingers in and out, fucking him on them. Each time, he reached into him to find his prostate, pressing on it when he slid his fingers back in.

\--

Cor leaned into him, using his weight to pin Ardyn down, and found a slow pace with his fingers. Ardyn couldn’t remember the last time someone had fingerfucked him properly; normally it was just a means to an end, something before what he really wanted. This time, though, it was just. It was just Cor, spreading him open, fingers gentle but steady against his prostate. “Cor,” Ardyn gasped, leaning awkwardly back against the cabinets behind him, his weight all up to Cor to keep upright. His ass was so far over the edge that he would have slid off without support. “This is awkward,” Ardyn admitted after a moment, cocking an eyebrow at Cor, and smiling all coy and flushed and wanton. “Do you want to take me to bed, Marshal?”

\--

The way Ardyn said his name made him shudder all over, and he let out a quiet, breathy gasp, watching him as he tried to shift. It was awkward, with his ass off the edge, and the cabinets in the way, Cor having to hold him up to keep him balanced.

“It is,” he admitted as well, and raised his eyebrows back at him when Ardyn looked at him like he had a better idea. In fact he did, and Cor eased his fingers out of him, wiping them on the inside of Ardyn’s thigh. “I’d love to,” he muttered, leaning in to nip at his lips before pulling out from between his thighs and putting the lube back in his pocket. Then, he collected the other man off the counter into his arms, carrying him like a recently married man might carry his bride. He was a little heavy, and quite big, but Cor managed it, holding him closer as he moved around the corner to the bedroom.

As he walked, he eyed his scarf, and remembered what Ardyn said about tying him up earlier. The other probably was in the bedroom, at the bottom of the bed where Ardyn usually dumped his clothes. He could definitely make use of that.

Setting Ardyn down on the bed gently, resting the other man’s head down on the pillow, he moved over on top of him, leaned down to shove their mouths together and grabbed the insides of his knees, pressing his right leg back towards his chest as far as it could go and letting his left splay comfortably where Ardyn let it, spreading his thighs again and settling between them.

\--

Cor wiped his slick fingers off on Ardyn’s thigh and he made a displeased noise. “Is that really necessary,” he was starting to ask, indignant, but then Cor grabbed him, dragged him off the counter, and picked him up.

Ardyn sighed, much put-upon. “Is _this_ ,” he asked, repeating himself, draped loosely and half-naked in Cor’s arms, “Really necessary?” It wasn’t, but Cor seemed happy enough, and when they reached the bed Ardyn settled on the mattress, spread his legs when Cor pressed his knee up to his chest and settled between them, his weight pinning it up far enough that Ardyn could feel the stretch in his hamstrings. Cor was _heavy_ , all muscle and strength, and Ardyn at that angle couldn’t get him to go much of anywhere.

He liked it.

\--

Cor ignored the other man’s quiet complaints. He’d get his fingers back in him soon enough, and then Ardyn wouldn’t be complaining at all. When he got him on the bed, Ardyn seemed happier already, with Cor pressed up against him, leaning on his thighs.

He kissed him, biting at his lower lip, and tugged at the scarf around Ardyn’s neck as they kissed, slowly pulling it off. When he had it in his hands, he sat back, turned to the bottom of the bed and found the other with his clothes there.

He didn’t say anything, just met the other man’s eyes for a moment as he secured the scarves around each of his knees individually, tight enough so the knot would hold if he pulled on it, and shifted up over him, drawing his right leg back to the headboard, before Cor carefully tied his left ankle down to the foot of the bed, leaving him spread-eagled.

When he had him there, legs pulled back so he couldn’t move away, and he could see the other man’s cock heavy between his legs and his slicked hole beneath, he let out a slow, shaky breath. He got the lube from his pocket again, slicked his fingers, and kissed the inside of Ardyn’s thigh, scraped his teeth across his skin as he pressed three fingers into him, resuming what he’d been doing before, sliding them deep inside.

\--

Ardyn sat up slightly, getting up on his elbows, but fell back over with an exhale as Cor grabbed his scarf, tugged it off, and went hunting for the other. “This,” Ardyn murmured, as Cor tied his knees to the headboard, “Is not an appropriate use for scarves.” But Cor was doing it anyway. Tying him up, so he really couldn’t move, his legs stretched tight. Experimentally, Ardyn tried pulling his knees back and found them quite stuck, so he just. Breathed out. Clutched the sheets.

Leaned back, closed his eyes, bit his lip, and decided to hold on for the ride.

He could feel Cor’s gaze on him, on his hard cock and his entrance still slick, and Ardyn clenched down without meaning to, his breath shaky as Cor leaned over him, scraped teeth and stubble over the inside of his thigh, and then pushed three fingers right up into him. The angle was better already, an easy slide up to the base, Ardyn wide open so Cor didn’t have to make him stretch. “That feels so good,” Ardyn whispered, fumbling with one hand in the sheets to grab for Cor’s other one, seeking out the touch of his fingers. “Want me open for your cock?”

\--

“This,” Cor muttered to him, “is a _perfectly_ appropriate use for scarves.” He couldn’t say he had much experience with tying people up for sexual purposes, but the scarves were soft and worked well enough. And when he had him there, all the other man could do was clutch the sheets and breathe, and he was beautiful like that, with his hair a mess thrown across the pillow and his legs spread wide so he was just a vision, all sex and desire for Cor.

Cor curled his fingers inside him, spread them to stretch him out, and when Ardyn reached for his hand, he brushed their fingers together, tangled them gently.

“I do,” he admitted against the soft skin of his thigh. The thought of pushing his cock into him while Ardyn was tied there, unable to get away, made the pit of his stomach burn, but he wanted to take his time before that, and he found his prostate again, stroking it with one finger. “But first, I want to see how many times I can get you to come, just like this.”

\--

Ardyn shuddered, hard, when Cor got a finger back on his prostate and kept the pressure up. It was light, but it was _there_ , and something about that non-stop push kept his breath caught high in his chest. It was a little unfair.

But Cor’s words left him on-edge, and Ardyn tried to sit up again to get a better look at the other man, panic high in his throat. “How _many?_ ” He gasped, momentarily unsure. “Cor, I don’t think more than once is going to _happen_.” He wasn’t exactly _young_ actual age notwithstanding; he’d been in his forties when he’d died that first time, grey in his hair and an ache in his bones and he’d never gotten any younger. Getting it up twice in a night could probably have happened but more than once in a single sitting was nigh on _impossible_.

\--

Ardyn was shaking a little already, breathing hard, and Cor kept up the gentle pressure, moving his fingers in and out and stroking his prostate. When Ardyn sat up a little, Cor raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” he said after a moment, understanding, and he paused. “Not… like that.” He kissed the side of his knee and pushed his fingers in deep, started stroking him again. “No one’s ever done this for you, then.” He smiled a little. “Just relax, and let me.” He’d only had this done to him once, only done it to someone else once, years and years ago when he was very young, before he decided to dedicate himself solely to combat and his job and his King, but he knew well enough what he was doing.

“You’ll enjoy it.” He squeezed his hand, then disentangled their fingers, shifted on the bed and reached for the base of the other man’s cock, squeezing him around the base. “Just breathe.”

\--

“No,” Ardyn hated how breathless he was, because it made it hard to get across his displeasure, especially since Cor never for even a moment stopped stroking his prostate, his whole body tense and on-edge. “Haven’t we been over what happened with my last relationship?” But still, he _trusted_ Cor even if it was stupid and foolish, trusted him enough to relax back onto the bed, to breathe, to nod.

Even if Cor’s fingers were uncomfortably tight around the base of his cock, cutting off any chance he might be able to ejaculate. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered, and tried to stop thinking about how out-of-place he felt, legs tied up uncomfortably, but Cor hadn’t yet let him down. He trusted Cor. Trusted Cor enough that he breathed, and sagged into the sheets, and let the tension run out of his shoulders and neck and just _feel_ —and there was so much to feel. There was the tension on his hamstrings, the weight on his shoulders. There were Cor’s fingers around the base of his cock, and where he was leaking in slow drops, and there was the fingers inside him. The fingers that were in him, and just _in him_ , stirring him up but not for anything other than just to feel him. Something about the angle, with Ardyn’s ass half in the air, meant that Cor had found a way to push on him that just felt like low heat and pressure that throbbed back up his cock, rather than starburst and fire.

“What’s the point of this,” Ardyn moaned, as he tried to shift, and found it nearly impossible, one thigh tensing. Which had obviously been the point of tying him up.

\--

True, from what he understood, Ardyn’s last relationship hadn’t exactly been a good one and ended terribly, and he’d never said anything about any relationships before that. Cor almost liked it better that way, knowing there were things he could do to him that Ardyn had never experienced before in all his years of life.

He felt the other man breathe, relax, and Cor nodded to him as Adyn laid back. The angle was good, with his legs pulled apart, and Cor slid his fingers in a little deeper, pushed hard on his prostate. “The point,” he ground out quietly, nipping at the soft skin of the inside of his thigh, “is to pleasure you as long as I possibly can. You can’t tense and squirm away from me, like this. I can do what I want to you.”

He pulled his fingers out, tugged hard on the ring of muscle as he did, and slicked his hand again. When he returned, he grabbed the base of his dick tight in his palm and slid four fingers up into him, stretching him open around them, found his prostate, and kept up the firm, insistent stroking he had before.

\--

Ardyn wanted to find a way to say that he wasn’t sure where they were going with this, what Cor thought was going to happen, but there was something happening that had somehow disconnected his brain from his mouth. Which was. Absolutely a new one.

Cor pulled his fingers out with a slick pop, Ardyn whining loudly as the ring of his entrance strained, but then he was back moments later. “Cor,” Ardyn moaned, trying to tense up and failing, grabbing hold of the sheets as the other man pushed four fingers up into him. His eyes watered with the stretch, and Ardyn tried to clench down without any results, trying to push him back out. Cor wasn’t going anywhere, holding his cock too-tight, stretching him wide up to the knuckles. “Cor,” he tried again, sobbing, tears burning his eyes, entrance fluttering around the too-much-not-enough stretch, and this time there was something about the pressure the _touch_ on his prostate, with the fact that Cor could reach in and grab whatever he wanted, use Ardyn however he wanted, that he couldn’t do anything to stop it that—

Ardyn bit his lower lip to bleeding as his breath stilled in his chest and he came, came and didn’t come all at once, the pressure of it blinding white behind his eyes as his cock throbbed and twitched. It wasn’t ejaculating, it was low and deep in his chest and rolling thick up his spine and his dick _hurt_ something awful as he spilled in hot pulses over the base of his stomach, moaning little bubbling breaths and clenching up tight when Cor didn’t _stop_ , coaxing him further up until it was all white behind his eyes.

\--

Ardyn moaned his name and Cor felt his cock throbbing where it was trapped still in his boxers. He was achingly hard but still patient enough to make himself wait. He just breathed and watched as Ardyn sobbed quietly, tensing around him as he came, slow and burning, just the way Cor wanted him to. He was moaning beautifully for it, and Cor didn’t let up, just held his dick tighter and watched him leak all over his stomach as he stroked his prostate, all his fingers pressed into him.

He flushed hard just from watching it, breath picking up, his own cock leaking against the front of his slacks, and he turned his face to press his nose against the inside of the other man’s knee. He had so many fingers in him already, and Ardyn was so hot and slick, he felt like he could reach all the way inside him, get his entire hand into him.

“Is this,” he breathed, squeezing hard at the base of his cock, chest tight as he worked out each word, words he’d been dying to taste since he found out who he was, “to your liking, Your Majesty?” He hadn’t called anyone that since the fall of Insomnia, and getting that out, and referring to Ardyn, made him shudder, made the arousal burn in the pit of his stomach so much that if he’d had more friction, he might have come just from speaking those words aloud.

\--

It didn’t stop. The blinding pressure just _kept going_ , not letting up, and Ardyn shuddered. Did it stop, or just become another, he couldn’t tell, because his cock was leaking and his whole body felt tight as a bowstring and he felt like he was falling and rising all at once. He wanted to beg for something, anything at all, but any words he’d known were gone, stolen out of him, replaced by wordless breathy whines.

Focusing on Cor’s words was an effort beyond all comprehension, to force himself to understand what was being said, and Ardyn started to moan as another of the orgasms, had to be orgasms, something more and less and _different_ and overwhelming and exhausting—and—

Ardyn made this horrible noise deep in his chest, wet and shattered and broken, and he cried out in surprise and anguish. _Your Majesty_ and he was clenching down so hard on Cor’s fingers in him that it hurt, his cock blindingly hard. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but he couldn’t see anything at all, his mouth dry and his throat aching. There was some awful wet crying noise that was all he could hear and it was _him_ , coming apart at the seams, all pulled-open. “ _Cor_ ,” he sobbed, face wet with salty tears, as he tugged on the bonds on his legs, tried to arch up into the other man’s hand to get more, hyperventilating. “Cor,” he tried again, desperate and needy as he strung in the hazy tension between one breath and the next, one orgasm and the next, on a knife-edge and needing more, needing anything.

\--

The other man was shaking beneath him, moaning, whining, and when Cor spoke the volume of the sounds he made only increased, Ardyn crying out and sobbing. Cor nearly sobbed with him as he watched him, broken open on the sheets and so, so beautiful, and in so many ways everything Cor had ever wanted and needed. Ardyn didn’t even have to say it for Cor to know the answer to his question was _a thousand times over, yes_.

“Yes,” Cor breathed, stroking him harder as Ardyn sobbed his name in a way that made him feel like all the air was being punched out of him. And he was glad, so glad, that he’d tied his legs still because Ardyn was pulling against him, arching towards him, gasping desperately. “I’m here,” he said, sliding his fingers deeper into him, all the way up to the knuckles on his hand, curling them hard inside him, and still he kept massaging his prostate, milking him more as he leaned against his thigh, rubbing his thumb against the underside of his cock just once. “You can do it. You’re beautiful.”

\--

Ardyn felt like he was on fire, twisting hard against where his legs were tied down both to get more friction and less, his body oversensitive and hot and painful. His cock burned, red and hard and aching, and Ardyn could feel his own come dripping down into his open mouth, but he couldn’t stop it couldn’t do anything but—

“I can’t,” Ardyn begged, instead of saying what he wanted to ( _I need)_ swallowing too-big gasps of air and near to shouting. “I can’t, I can’t,” but Cor said he could, thought he could, wouldn’t stop because he could. Ardyn felt so wide open and fucked out, but he needed more he _wanted_ more, wanted Cor to ruin him and break him, sobbing helpless, hot, ugly tears as he shuddered hard, riding the high still, _greedy_. His prostate hurt, sore and swollen and sensitive, and his cock throbbed and, he wanted, he wanted— “More,” Ardyn sobbed, his ragged voice catching on the word. “ _Please_.”

\--

Ardyn just sobbed more, arched harder, his cock throbbing in Cor’s hand. He was leaking absolutely everywhere, gorgeous and fucked out and desperate, more desperate than he’d ever seen him. “You can,” Cor urged, stroking him more, dragging it out as much as he possibly could, but he could feel his hand nearly slipping into him each time he pressed on his prostate and it made his breath catch. He wanted, so badly, to get his hand into him, to fill him and fist him until he was so incoherent he couldn’t speak.

He was near that point already, just sobbing and crying, and what few words he did get out were strangled and hoarse. “Gods,” Cor gasped when he said he wanted more. His entire body was urging him to pull his cock out from where it was trapped in his slacks, drag Ardyn closer and fuck the other man’s slicked hole until he came. He wanted that heat, that friction more than anything, but. He would wait. He would wait.

He stopped massaging his prostate, pulling his fingers out a little, and let go of his swollen cock, grabbing the lube and just pouring it onto his fingers and the other man’s hole, finger fucked him gently just to get him slicker, and coated his entire hand as much as he could.

“Breathe,” he instructed, even if that seemed near impossible in the state Ardyn was in. “Relax.” He pushed his fingers back in, up to where they were before, and this time slid his thumb in alongside them, and kept going. He pressed his hand in, slow and steady, holding his fingers tight together. With some gentle coaxing, he got the widest part of his hand twisted through his entrance, shuddering hard as Ardyn opened up around him and he could feel how hot and soft and slick he was inside. “Relax,” he whispered again, kissing the inside of his thigh and grabbing his cock again, holding it to keep him from coming as he fucked him, just a little, with his hand in him, all of him on edge just from watching it, from feeling it, from seeing his hand swallowed up inside him, and let out a long, hard, shuddering breath. “Gods.”

\--

Ardyn had been actually lit on fire before and not felt like he was this hot. He couldn’t move or think or breathe, so close to the edge. When Cor pulled his fingers back, left Ardyn gaping so far open he couldn’t close his ass, clenching on air, he was just sobbing in bereft need. “Cor,” he whined, grabbing helplessly for the other man, begging him to come back. He came back, just fingering Ardyn’s swollen touch-sensitive rim, working cold lube into his burning-hot skin, and then finally after what felt like _centuries_ in every second, Cor was pushing in, fingers easing so quick into Ardyn that he couldn’t believe how open he was, how wanting, how needy. How easy it was for Cor to fuck him however he wanted, how soft and slick. He was used to it being a struggle and it being hard and now all he had to do was breathe and Cor was deeper and—

And he kept pushing. “Cor—” Ardyn hiccoughed, eyes wide and dry and unblinking and unseeing as he tensed up. _Breathe_ , the other man said, like he _could_ breathe, like his chest wasn’t shattered in, scooped open behind his collarbones, and there wasn’t his own come on his lips and his whole body didn’t feel like it was _on fire_. When the widest part of Cor’s knuckles pressed up against his rim, he shook his head, frantic, tears went on his hair. “I can’t, I can’t.” There was no way. He was coming again even as he said it, rolling into another that left him shaking so hard all over his teeth were chattering, coming on the feeling of Cor’s knuckles pushing into him until his rim felt like it might tear, busted open and ruined. He kept going, pushing until Ardyn felt like dying, and when he felt Cor’s hand pop in to the wrist—

Someone was screaming at the top of their lungs, high and wrecked and ragged and ruined, hoarse and awful, and Ardyn knew _it was him_. He was screaming like he was dying because _he felt like it_ , clenching down so hard on Cor’s hand he was overtensed inside even as his too-sore prostate hurt like hellfire and desire and his cock throbbed, spilling and dripping onto his stomach, onto his face, all his words gone and blown out of him.

\--

Ardyn kept crying his name, desperately gasping, tensing around his hand as he shook and leaked even more. “You can,” he whispered back to him, “You can.”

And when he had his hand in him, Ardyn screamed. Cor’s immediate knee-jerk reaction was to grab him by the throat and slam him down, to cut it off, but he already had his hand tight around his dick, reluctant to let go. “Hush,” he hissed, though it would do no good. The walls weren’t _that_ thick and he was suddenly viscerally aware that someone outside might hear. “Ardyn.” The other man was clenching down around him, cock throbbing in his grip, and Cor twisted his hand inside him, fucked him gently. “Hush,” he whispered again, as if that would do anything.

He was so hard it hurt, the front of his trousers were wet from where he’d leaked all over himself, and after a minute or so, heart pounding from arousal, the desperate need to get his dick in his wet, wide open hole, and the fear that someone else would hear them, he jerked his hand out of him so fast it made a slick pop as he pulled out.

His slacks were already a mess and he wiped his hand off on them, grabbed his fly and practically tore it open, shoved his trousers and his pants down around his hips and dragged them around his knees and off, hissing as his cock hit the air. He wanted to mount Ardyn, wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, and he grabbed the lube, slicked his dick as quickly as he could, and slid in closer to align their hips.

It was the easiest thing in the world, to just untie his bad leg at the ankle, spread his thighs wide, and slide his cock into him. Cor buckled over the other man, gasping and moaning as he pushed in all at once up to the base. Ardyn was open, so open, and sopping wet around him, and so, so hot he felt like he was going to lose his mind. He was going to come, there was no way he was going to last, and he looked down at Ardyn, at his glazed over amber eyes, grabbed his throat and squeezed to muffle any other screams, and let himself fuck into him as hard and fast as he wanted to.

\--

Cor was whispering that he could. Ardyn shook his head, tears and sweat hot on his face. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he was coming apart at the seams and he couldn’t even as Cor fucked him and fucked him and fucked him, he couldn’t do anything but hysterically cry and hang on for dear life. And then Cor shifted, pulled his hand back too-fast, and his knuckles caught on Ardyn’s rim. For a moment it was just pressure and stretch and then his hand popped free with a wet noise and Ardyn spasmed and seized up off of the bed, screaming at the top of his lungs again, sightless eyes wide and unseeing as he came so hard he couldn’t _breathe_ , so far past anything human, his thighs and hips so tight he was clenching down on air.

There was a shatter like breaking glass and the electric tingle of lightning striking, and a red glow behind his eyes. When he came there was the space between heartbeats and the shock of the sunrise and his body just becoming for a moment something else and he _needed_ he needed, he was so empty, he was so open and empty and Cor was pushing in and in and in to the base, and he was screaming and the other man wrapped his hand around Ardyn’s neck he couldn’t breathe, his shouts bottling up in his throat, bruising and.

The babbling, begging, white-out overstimulation of Cor fucking him like Ardyn was just a hot, wet hole to be used, so loose he couldn’t clench up, so loose his cock wasn’t _enough_ and Ardyn needed-wanted more, he was so close to passing out but he _wanted_ he wanted to come again to never stop coming again and he just cried in search of it, clenching up and thrashing underneath the other man, head spinning with lack of air and excess of all else when all he wanted was Cor to come in him and do it _again_ please _do it again_.

\--

There was a moment, just a moment, when Cor pulled his hand out, where Ardyn’s eyes glowed as he screamed and there was a red aura all around them, the vague, crystalline sounds of the Armiger as he came. And then Cor was in him and he had him by the throat and Ardyn was coming undone beneath him, unable to move, to speak, trying to clench down helplessly around him and unable to. And still, the other man thrashed against the sheets, still, he arched his hips up against Cor’s cock as he fucked him relentlessly, still he wanted more, asking without words.

Bringing his hand between them, he eased two fingers into the other man alongside his cock, gasped at the added friction, at the feeling of how loose and open he was. He dug his fingers into the skin of Ardyn’s neck, letting out a choked up, desperate sob as he came hard inside the other man with little warning, all of it rising up in him at once until he felt like he was on fire, tingling, nearly trembling with the force of it. It passed just as quickly, leaving him reeling, gasping for breath, his arm shaking as he leaned over Ardyn, beautiful and broken on the sheets beneath him.

He left his fingers in him as he pulled his cock out, wincing a little but unable to take his eyes off the other man’s face. Ardyn was so far gone, lost in ache and need and burning pleasure and the place your mind went when you’d been fucked so many times you could no longer think. And once his cock was out, he pushed his hand back in, fingers curled to make a fist, using his own come as lube to stretch him out even further, to fill him completely. And still, he kept a hold on his throat, to muffle his screams.

Tired and in utter awe as he watched him, Cor slumped against Ardyn’s thigh and started fucking him with his fist, moving it in and out, listening to the wet, slick sounds it made. “I love you,” he got out, choked up against his skin, and he didn’t even know if Ardyn was coherent enough to hear him, his beautiful amber eyes all glazed over, and Cor held his gaze. “Ardyn. I love you.”

\--

Having Cor in him was a reassurance that Ardyn desperately needed, and he sighed in fulfilled pleasure as the other man fucked him relentlessly, quick deep thrusts down to the root, no need to stretch or tease when Ardyn took him as easy as breathing, all ruined and broken open. Having Cor’s fingers alongside his cock only made it better, made Ardyn whine and want more. He just kept nodding frantically, egging Cor on even though he couldn’t focus his eyes, and when the other man came hard deep inside him he made this soft little noise at the back of his throat, a noise of _finally_ being full the way he needed, clutched at the sheets and moaned in happiness. He loved it, he loved how full he felt, wet and slick and stuffed.

He didn’t notice Cor had pulled out until there was the width and pressure of his knuckles scraping Ardyn’s rim, fucking into him and then back out. He couldn’t breathe and he was blacking out and he was so close, so close, so close. Cor had let go of his cock and his prostate hurt something dreadful like a stab wound inside him, throbbing and so sore, so sore, but he needed—

Ardyn didn’t know if Cor had really said it, so lost in the post-orgasm pre-ejaculation overstimulated haze that was the ruin of his consciousness, but he was almost certain Cor had whispered _I love you_ and that was absolutely enough to do it, a surge of something too much and too strong in the back of his throat, and Ardyn finally shuddered and throbbed and ejaculated untouched and dry, his whole body bowstring-tight and as blank as fresh-fallen snow and—

Somewhere in there, just passed out.

\--

He could see in Ardyn’s eyes how dazed he was, how completely blissed and fucked out, and gorgeous. He must have been aching horribly after all Cor had done to him, overstimulated and loving it. And when Cor said those words, there was some flicker of recognition on Ardyn’s face, and then he tensed up and shuddered and came completely dry, cock throbbing with it. His illusion fell away, revealing all the scars and pale skin and black stains of his true appearance. And then his eyes closed and he fell limp, relaxed, passed out.

Cor let out a long, shuddering breath. He eased his hand out, carefully, and let go of his throat, rubbed gently at the red marks, though he hadn’t squeezed quite enough to leave the nasty bruises he used to. Ardyn was a mess, covered in all the black come he’d been leaking for (when Cor glanced at his phone) apparently an hour and a half. He untied him from the headboard, working out the knots in the scarves and tossing them both back into Ardyn’s pile of clothes, easing his legs down onto the bed. Then wiped his cock off on his own underwear, and his hand, and Ardyn’s stomach and, gently, his ass, though he’d be scooping lube out of there for a while when he woke up. It didn’t even bother him so much that it was black, anymore, though it was… odd, to see the color shift with the rest of him.

Leaning over him, Cor kissed him, gently, touched his cheek, made sure he was breathing, and he was. And he was beautiful like that, too, fucked to unconsciousness, and peaceful in his sleep.

As he was about to lay down next to him, just to hold him while he rested, there was a loud knock at the door and it nearly startled him out of his skin. “Shit,” he hissed, and got up without even thinking about it, grabbed a new pair of underwear, and tugged it on hastily, stumbling over to blearily answer the door.

He rubbed one hand over his face and back through his hair, trying to smooth it back as he opened the door a crack and peered out. He was hoping for Iris, she wouldn’t be too hard to chase off. But of course, it had to be Monica.

“Cor,” she said, staring at him in mild alarm. “Is everything all right? I heard someone screaming.”

“It’s,” he breathed. “It’s fine. I was… just taking a nap. The screaming must have been.” He fumbled for a good source of screaming that wasn’t sex or death. “Must have been coming from outside. I had a window open.” He motioned a little inside, and she was already trying to peer around him into the room. Then, she leveled her gaze at him, and it drifted slowly downward.

“Cor,” she said slowly. “You’re not wearing any pants.”

He scrubbed one hand through his hair again. “I never wear pants. To sleep.”

“But you’re still wearing the top half of your uniform.” She pointed out. “In what world would you ever wear your uniform to bed?”

He shrugged. “All the… time…”

“Cor,” she said even more slowly, and he purposefully avoided her gaze. He was starting to get worried, and he knew it would show on his face, if it hadn’t already. Monica folded her arms and smiled like she’d started to figure it out. “Who were you having sex with?”

“I—” He felt himself flushing, rubbed at his nose to try to hide it. “I’m not. I never. You _know_ me, Monica.” His voice was rough, too, from the exertion.

“Mmhmm.” She raised her eyebrows, looked him over carefully for one long moment, and sighed. “Well you can tell whoever it is, that I hope they had fun, and that no one was hurt.” She shook her head. “Don’t forget we have a meeting in the morning.”

“You know I won’t.” He frowned at her until she turned and left, then closed the door and locked it again. That was going to get around _fast_. Of all the damn things. He would have to figure out what to do about that. Maybe… he could work something out.

In the meantime, though, he had Ardyn fucked out in his bed, and he didn’t want the other man to wake up without him there. So, he went to get a wet cloth, to clean him up more properly, and when he was done, pulled the blankets up over both of them and settled in beside him.

\--

Ardyn floated on the edge of consciousness for maybe a minute and a half, but finally dragged the shattered pieces of his fucked-out brain back together and into a semblance of something coherent at about the same time he heard a knock on the door. Sprawled boneless and limp in bed, he only managed to make an unhappy, questioning noise low in the back of his shout-raw throat as Cor rolled off of the mattress and scrambled away to the door. Still too far gone to make any sort of attempt to find out what was going on, Ardyn just lapsed back into blissful whiteout, face snuffled into Cor’s sheets, and tuned out.

He was a little closer to human when he felt the mattress dip again, Cor’s weight and a warm, wet cloth cleaning between his legs and over his stomach, Ardyn whining quietly as the other man touched still-sensitive flesh. His whole body felt hot with tingling pinpricks post-orgasm, and every touch, every gentle touch, left him shuddering and whining. “Stop,” he grumbled, tensing one leg and then decided that figuring out how to coordinate enough to kick at Cor was going to be too much effort by far, and went limp again. Cor went, and came, and his concept of time droned out to just whispers and the even beat of Cor’s heart behind him, pressed to his back.

He almost dropped off to sleep, _real_ sleep with dreams and all, several times. But it never really stuck. He could feel Cor’s agitation, and his own aching body didn’t help with the focus. Eventually, Ardyn pushed himself to roll over, too lazy even to do so much as put his proper face back on, and mashed his face into Cor’s shoulder. “You’ve been found out, Marshal,” Ardyn slurred, half of the words coming out just as a scramble. He threw his arm over Cor’s waist and started to settle in. “Not-so-single.”

\--

Tired, but not tired enough to sleep, Cor curled around Ardyn, who seemed to be awake but not coherent at all. The most he’d gotten out of him were quiet whimpers and whines, and his eyes, when they opened, were glazed over still. Cor just held him, one arm looped around his waist, face pressed into the other man’s hair. He thought Ardyn might be asleep a few times, and he was content to lay there and pray for no more interruptions. Ardyn was warm against him, and Cor stroked his skin gently, moving his hand over the scars all across his pale body.

Ardyn shifted at last and rolled over, pressed up against him, face shoved into Cor’s shoulder. Cor smiled into his hair, wrapped his arm tighter around him, and pulled him closer. He sighed at the other man’s muffled, slurred words and smiled. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That sounds about right.”

Still, he’d never really considered it until that moment. Even after all the time they’d been fucking, he never thought of it as a proper relationship. But at this point, it would be silly to continue denying that it was anything else, and the thought of that made him feel warm all over.

He kissed him gently on the side of the head, nuzzled his hair. “So, you heard my conversation with Monica?”

\--

Cor pulled him closer with an arm around his waist and smiled into his hair, making Ardyn muffle a tired giggle into his chest. It had been bound to happen eventually. Ardyn had nobody in the world that cared about him, but Cor had a whole family. They were remarkably lucky that it hadn’t happened sooner.

Grunting to confirm that he’d heard rather than fight to figure out the words, Ardyn relaxed more, head pressed into Cor’s chin. “They’re going to want to meet me,” he pointed out gently, trailing fingers over the hem of the other man’s shirt before he pushed it up to get his fingers tangled in the coarse curls at the base of Cor’s stomach, soft against his skin.

\--

Cor rubbed his fingers slowly up the other man’s spine, closing his eyes. He was happier than he’d ever been, like this, with Ardyn exhausted and relaxed, tucked up next to him. “I know,” he mumbled, sighing as Ardyn’s fingers slipped under his shirt to curl against his stomach. “I could take my shirt off,” he added quietly. He hadn’t bothered but assuming they would sleep eventually, he wanted it off anyway. Monica was right about him never sleeping in his uniform.

“I was thinking, maybe you could just…” He made a thoughtful sound and shrugged. “Make a new glamor. If that’s possible. Just to meet them. I’ll avoid it as long as I can but… you’re right. It’s inevitable.” He was almost surprised it hadn’t happened already. “Even if you hadn’t been so loud, they would have found out eventually.”

\--

Ardyn made a noncommittal noise and tangled his hand further into Cor’s pubic hair, sliding his fingertips under the waistband of his boxers. His skin was warm and Ardyn wanted to feel more of it, but moving so Cor could get his shirt off was far, far too much effort.

At Cor’s suggestion, he made a noise. “What, do you think they might not like me?” He was grinning as he said it, though. The last thing he wanted to do was start a riot. They might not even believe it if they saw him. Think they were hallucinating. There was no way that upright, perfect Cor Leonis had fallen into bed with Imperial Chancellor and fallen King of Light, the Accursed _Ardyn Izunia_. “You’re talking like you don’t like me loud,” he grumbled, shifting closer, throwing one leg over Cor’s. “You could gag me.”

He didn’t answer Cor’s suggestion. He wasn’t sure he could. The idea that Cor would want him to be a part of his family, but not as who he was, as _what_ he was, hurt.

\--

Ardyn just slid his fingers down lower, playing with the waistband of his boxers and the thick hair there, so he didn’t bother getting up to take his shirt off. He just sighed at him, because he seemed far too bitterly amused at the thought of Cor’s friends finding out who he really was, and he was avoiding the question, which Cor generally took as meaning, he didn’t want to answer it.

“I like you being loud,” Cor muttered as Ardyn threw one leg over his. He rolled over, half on top of him, pressing him down into the sheets again and leaned up on one arm so he could watch his face. “I just don’t want anyone else to hear you.” He smiled a little. Gagging him wasn’t actually a bad idea.

He lifted one hand, stroked the stubble along Ardyn’s jawline with his thumb. “You _know_ we can’t tell them who you really are, Ardyn. You know they would never understand, no matter what we told them.” It would be a nightmare. They wouldn’t believe it, they’d think Ardyn had brainwashed him somehow, or some other ridiculous thing. “I wish I could.” He cupped his cheek. “And I don’t want to be torn between you and them. Hence why I’ve tried to avoid this for as long as possible.”

\--

Cor rolled over, pressing him down into the sheets, and Ardyn lazily cracked one eye to look at him, put his face back on rather than remain. Like he was.

“I know that,” he murmured, sliding both his hands down Cor’s hips and under his boxers, thumbs brushing over the powerful muscles of his ass, squeezing gently. Cor had a nice ass. Ardyn never felt him up nearly enough. “You don’t have to lecture me, Cor.” He didn’t need to be reminded of all that hung between them, and what might happen if Cor’s friends knew who he was. Knew _what_ he was.

“You don’t have to lie for me,” Ardyn murmured, trying—and failing—to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I would rather you pretend I not exist than you be ashamed of me.”

\--

Ardyn glamored himself again, hiding his stains and scars and catlike eyes. His warm hands slipped beneath Cor’s boxers to his hips, over the curve of his ass, and Cor sighed and melted down against him a little bit more. “I know,” he mumbled. “I know. But…” He honestly didn’t know what to do, and how bitter Ardyn was, the fact that he thought Cor was ashamed of him, that he accused him outright of it, only hurt more.

“I’m not,” he said slowly, watching his eyes, and sighed again, helplessly. “Ardyn. I’m not trying to avoid this because I’m ashamed of you. If I could love you openly… if I could tell everyone how brilliant and beautiful you are…” He let out a quiet, frustrated sound, tangled his fingers into Ardyn’s hair, and watched his face. “I don’t know what to do, Ardyn. What would you have me do? Run away to Insomnia with you? Tell them all who you really are and be chased out of the city for you?” He frowned. He could imagine the looks on their faces. The hurt, the disbelief, that after this man had done so much to all of them and all the people of Lucis, he was the one Cor had dedicated himself to in the end. Ardyn really was his King now. “I would, for you, if you asked me to.”

\--

Cor was watching him with those eyes; gods, how he hated those eyes. They were as bright as the moon, and just as knowing of when he was lying. Ardyn didn’t know when Cor had learned to read his lies as well as he had, but he wished the man _hadn’t_. He had worn those second skins so long that now to be seen through like glass was—

“No,” Ardyn snarled, digging his nails into Cor’s ass a little harder than strictly necessary. “What would you have to _gain_ , Cor, sitting in a dead city watching me come apart like old cloth? You really want to see me lose my mind up that close in personal? That’s not what I want and you _know_ it.” He pulled his hands back and sat up abruptly, rolling Cor off of him.

Ardyn knew what he had to look like. Hickeys on his neck and shoulders his hair even more of a rat’s nest than usual, face slack with post-orgasm haze, and his eyes too-bright. His lips, swollen and kiss-soft. “Do you want that?” He threw back instead, clenching his fingers in the sheets as his shaky elbows refused to properly straighten, wincing as he put his weight on his incredibly sore ass. “You want to die infamous and alone, Cor?” Ardyn pushed his hair out of his face and tucked it back behind one ear, sneered at the other man, and finally softened.

“You talk about what I want. What Noctis wants, what everyone else wants. What do you want, Cor Leonis? Do you want to spend the rest of your too-brief life pining over someone who was dead two thousand years before you were even a _concept_ that could have existed, like you are now? Like you have been? I won’t be another Regis to you, Cor. I am not him. I refuse to become him.”

\--

Ardyn’s nails dug into his ass, hard, and Cor just stared at him as Ardyn snapped at him, unsure what to do or say. When he sat up, Cor sat up, too, shrinking away from him a little bit. He was vibrant and fucked out and exhausted and irritated, and Cor tried to open his mouth to speak, but he just couldn’t. And when the other man’s face softened, when he asked him what he wanted, when he spoke of Regis, Cor stared at him in quiet bewilderment, stunned and broken open, more of himself out in the air between them than there had ever been with anyone before. Monica and some others had known about his feelings for Regis, but no one had ever confronted him about it, not directly, not like this.

“I don’t want that,” he said, because it was true, even if it felt unexplainable. “I don’t know what I want.” And that was true, too. There was more to it than that. He worked his jaw, tried to find the right words, and looked away. He couldn’t meet his eyes anymore.

“My entire life,” he began slowly. “I served Regis. That was my purpose. I was…” Not happy. Never truly happy. But it had been enough. “Content.” He glanced up at Ardyn, looked away again. “I loved Regis for so many years.” He swallowed, hard. “But towards the end, I’d accepted my place. And I didn’t want him, like that, anymore, like I used to. You’ve given me so much more than he ever could. You’re more of what I want and need than he ever was. I don’t want him.” He shook his head, he was fumbling but it felt honest, it felt right.

“I want you, as you are. And when you die,” he took a deep breath, because he knew it was a _when_ not an _if_ and he knew it could come any day, “I will move on, because I’ll have no choice. Until that day.” He curled his fingers into the sheets, took a deep breath, let it out again. “I just want… some affection, someone to care about me, some semblance of what Regis and Clarus and so many others have had, that I’ve just barely tasted. I want to be able to dedicate myself to someone who makes me feel like I’m alive.” There was a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that this was pathetic, and it was, and he didn’t even know if Ardyn was capable of giving him what he wanted, but still, he clenched his fingers in the sheets and stared at his hands and forced it out.

“I want to be _loved_ ,” he ground out, aching, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes, jaw clenched in frustration, and he looked at Ardyn out of the corner of his eye. He was speaking from his heart, quickly, before he could swallow it down again. “Not just by anyone. If Regis came to me now, I would turn him away. I know you’re thousands of years old and I _know_ you’ve seen too much and I must seem like _nothing_ to you, and I know that Noctis could come back any day now and kill you and that would be the end, and I know that if it takes years for his return I’ll be watching you wither away, consumed by the daemons inside you, but it _has_ to be you, Ardyn.” He looked at him, finally, softening again. “There is no other. Not for me. And no amount of you telling me all of that over and over will change anything. Even if you never love me, we have _something_. It’s enough. It’s all that I want. To just have this. Please, let me have this. I’m happy, when I’m with you, for the first time since I can remember. It’s all I want.”

\--

_When you die_.

_When_ , not _if_.

For so long, it had been _if you die_. For so long, Ardyn had sat there, haunted by a spectre of _if,_ not _when_. _If_ the Astrals could find their belaboured King of light and _if_ he could gain their favour and _if_ there was an Oracle who cared to support him and _if_ he lived long enough to take the crystal and _if_ he was able to be ruthless and _if_ he had the strength to cut Ardyn down in cold blood at the end of it all and _if_ —

And _if_ was _when_. And there was only so much he could do to come to terms with the fact that sooner rather than later, he’d be a dead body on the crumbled tarmac of the Insomnia city streets, and Cor—

Would not be.

Ardyn sighed in frustration and leaned forward, took Cor’s face in his hands, fingers splayed over his cheeks. He watched the other man’s face without speaking for a long time, brushed his thumbs over Cor’s sharp cheekbones. They stood out more now against his gaunt face than they had before. There were more lines beside his eyes, beside his mouth. He was growing old, growing older than Ardyn. Soon enough he would blink and Cor would be gone.

It had happened before. Ardyn had looked away and people had just...vanished, like they’d never been real. He couldn’t take it again, not now, not with Cor.

Shifting closer, drawing his legs up under him, Ardyn softened and pressed their foreheads together, tucked his face into the dip of Cor’s shoulder, dragged his hands down the other man’s arms and sighed into the damp sweat-slick of his skin. “And you think I feel anything for you _other_ than the deepest affection?” He sighed at last, closing his eyes. It was somehow easier like that. “Cor, days to me are _seconds_ to you. Months minutes. I—”

He let out a shaking breath.

“Of course I.” The word stuck in his throat; he could not say it. He could not. Not even when Cor had whispered it, hot and fervent into the sweat-slick skin of his thigh, not even when he felt it in the back of his throat as tight as choking. “Of course. I.” He struggled, but finally whispered, “Te amo.” Old Lucian. Perhaps old enough that Cor did not know it. “If I am going to fade and wither, I would want it to be with you. You aren’t nothing and nobody to me. But you are not _beholden_ to me, Cor. I am not your King. I do not want you to die for me.”

That was the very last thing he wanted.

Ardyn straightened and leaned his head on the side to watch Cor, chewing over the words that pressed heavy on his tongue. “So many people have died for me. Intentionally or not.” He cupped Cor’s face again. “I could not go with you on my conscience as well.” It was bad enough that his death, so long-wanted, would have to take Noctis with him too. “I want you to be _happy_. Lying about me to the people who need you more than I won’t do that. Lying to me about what you want shan’t either.” He didn’t let go of Cor’s face, stared into those too-bright eyes, luminous and hollow and sad and tired and _old_ , somehow, older than Ardyn himself felt at times.

“But...I would have you stay with me,” he whispered, voice shaky, “Until the end. If it is not too great a burden for you to do so. Even though it would be selfish, and cruel of me, to take up your life. To know that I was using something so...finite. But it would be better than being alone. For either one of us.”

\--

Ardyn leaned over, reached for his face, palms pressed to his cheeks and just looked at him. For a long time, the other man watched him, and after a minute or so, Cor gathered up the strength to meet his eyes again. Ardyn was looking at him like he was the most incredible, finite thing in the world. Like if he looked away, Cor would just be gone, and he wanted the memorize every bit of him before that happened.

Cor let out a slow, quiet breath, and Ardyn shifted closer, pressed their foreheads together, then tucked his head against Cor’s shoulder, touching his arms gently. Cor moved closer in turn, resting his hands on his waist. His heart ached at the other man’s words. But when Ardyn stumbled, stumbled so hard to admit that he shared what Cor felt, his breath caught in his throat, and even when it came out in a language he didn’t understand, he knew that was what it meant, and he felt too warm and ached too much and shoved his face into Ardyn’s hair, breathing him in.

When Ardyn pulled back again, Cor watched his eyes and tried to think of what to say. He nodded a little in understanding and took a deep, shaky breath. “I won’t die,” he promised. “I won’t. But as long as we both live, let me be at your side. Not out of duty or obligation or because you want me to, but because _I want to_.” When he said it, it felt like the greatest truth he’d ever spoken, and he felt lighter and stronger for having said it. “You won’t be taking up my life. I want this. I will stay with you of my own free will.” And he agreed, it would be better than being alone. They’d both been alone for far too long.

“And as for them,” he glanced over his shoulder, as if looking towards the door where he’d spoken with Monica. “I don’t want to lie. But the truth…” he shook his head. “I can’t win, no matter what I do.”

\--

Cor had slung his arms around Ardyn’s waist and just held him gently like that, watching him. Ardyn laughed under his breath when Cor promised not to die, and shook his head. At least this one time, he’d predecease someone. Probably. He hoped, anyway. Bringing the Starscourge had taken a great deal out of him, and there had never been much of him left to begin with. He was down to meagre scraps now, and it was only a matter of time before he lost those as well.

Ardyn squeezed Cor’s elbow. “It doesn’t really matter.” What little energy and control he had left were almost entirely for Cor; what time he had spent apart from the man had mostly been Ardyn letting the daemons inside him pull free, test their tethers. They wanted the dark as much as their fellows did, they longed for it. Soon enough if Noctis didn’t do him in, Ardyn would cease to still be the shade of the man that had once, a long time ago, been Ardyn Lucis Caelum, and become the Accursed in whole cloth. “I will think about it.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t been lying about who he was for as long as he’d drawn breath, or near enough to.

It was an imperfect solution. It wasn’t what he wanted. But it meant that Ardyn would at the very least not be alone. It meant there would be someone there that he could still turn to.

“Cor,” Ardyn said at last, “I want you to promise me something.”

\--

Ardyn squeezed his elbow, said it didn’t matter, and Cor sighed quietly and just held him. There was nothing left for him to do. Arms wrapped around the other man’s waist, he tugged him a little closer, watched his face. He seemed so… contemplative. Cor couldn’t even begin to imagine all that he’d seen, all that he’d been through.

After they’d been silent for a long time, Ardyn finally spoke and Cor nodded, reaching up to touch his hair, to tangle his fingers gently into it, stroking it. “Of course,” he said, quietly. “What is it?”

\--

“Make sure Noctis is ready to kill me.” It was a heavy burden to carry, one that he hated to place upon the man but one that had to go to _someone_. “Those boys listen to you above anyone else. If anyone can convince them to surety—” if anyone could convince Noctis when he returned, it would be the three boys. And they, in turn, would listen to Cor.

“I cannot do this again. Just don’t leave it up to chance and fate.”

\--

Cor exhaled, steady and slow and sure. He pressed his hand to Ardyn’s bare shoulder, squeezed it gently. “I will,” he said. It was a heavy burden, one that would be difficult, towards the end. But as much as it would hurt to lose him, as much as it hurt to know he would die long before Cor did, it was for Ardyn’s sake. It was for the best. He wouldn’t have wished on the man to continue to live, to watch Cor wither and die, while the the daemons consumed the rest of who he used to be.

The boys would listen to him. He would encourage them as much as he could, to encourage Noctis in turn.

He leaned in, pressed their foreheads together. “If that’s what I have to do, to help you find peace in the end, I will. I’ll make sure he’s ready. I’ll make sure he carries it through.”

\--

Cor’s tired exhale told Ardyn all that he needed to know. “Not exactly a commonplace request,” he murmured. A proposal, but not one made out of romance and gentility. “I know. But…” But, this was more important to him. More important to him by far. What time they had was to be beloved, but at the end of it, Ardyn knew what he wanted and what he wanted was _rest_.

He leaned back against Cor, a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, glad for the other man being there. “And until then,” Ardyn mused, exhausted and running out of steam, “You’ll have me.”

\--

It was not a request that he’d expected, admittedly, but one that made sense. Ardyn deserved to rest, after so much pain and so many years. Until that day came, all he could was urge the boys to make sure Noctis would be ready, and enjoy what time he had left with Ardyn.

He smiled at him, tired and happy, touched his cheek, and leaned in to kiss him, gently. “I have a meeting in the morning,” he mumbled, “but you can still stay here tonight with me, if you want to.” He imagined he would. He still looked like a mess, but all the more beautiful for it.

\--

Cor kissed him, too-soft, and Ardyn tilted his face up into it, hummed happily. “Where else would I go? I don’t think I can _stand_ , Cor.” His hips and legs ached something fierce, even sitting up was hurting, and now that they were done talking, he was perfectly happy to collapse comfortably back onto the sheets, grunting. “You’ll have to put up with me for a few days, I’m afraid. The apartment certainly isn’t large enough for two of us, but I am afraid that needs must.”

\--

Cor smiled against his lips, far too pleased with himself. “You have a tendency to like to disappear on me, that’s all.” He tugged gently on his hair, affectionately, and when Ardyn collapsed back onto the sheets, Cor finally pulled his shirt off and followed him more slowly, settling down on the pillow beside him.

“Oh,” he raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, whatever will I do with Ardyn Lucis Caelum all alone with me in my tiny apartment for a few days.” He grinned a little and rolled closer. “Truly, though, you can stay as long as you need to. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

\--

Ardyn huffed out a breath at the other man, ruffling his hair. “I’m a very busy man, you know. I don’t have the luxury to lounge around like you people do. Lots of things to get done in Insomnia. City never sleeps, after all.” Except now, when it was empty and all that remained were nightmares.

Blinking up at Cor as the other man stripped out of his shirt and climbed in next to him, Ardyn shook his head when the other man used his proper name. “That’s cheating,” he mumbled, without the slightest bit of heat to it. Which reminded him, though— “You called me Your Majesty earlier. You make a habit of swearing fealty to dead men while coming?”

\--

Cor snorted at him, still smiling. “It’s not cheating,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around him again and pulling him closer. He’d almost forgotten what he’d called him, though, in the heat of the moment. “Oh,” he let out a quiet, embarrassed breath. “That. I…” He could feel himself flushing and pressed his head into his palm, ran his fingers through his hair. “Just thought, well, maybe…” He half-laughed awkwardly. “I thought you might like it. I did.”

\--

Ardyn didn’t say anything for a moment, just lifted one lazy hand to grab the short hair at the back of Cor’s neck, drag his head up. There was a fine art to acting regal, he had learned a lifetime ago. It had nothing to do with posture and words and where you stood, nothing to do with thrones or crowns. It had everything to do with _presentation_ , and he had been a king longer than Lucis had been a proper kingdom. He could make anyone swear fealty, if he pushed hard enough.

“Would you do it again?” He asked, voice low as he pulled Cor’s hair harder again. “Kneel at my feet? You said I’m the King you chose, now.” Ardyn cocked an eyebrow. “Would you be my sworn sword, Marshal?”

\--

The look on the other man’s face in that moment made him feel even more like he was burning all over. It didn’t matter how exhausted Ardyn was, he had a way of looking like a king even then, and Regis couldn’t even begin to compare to this, in his mind. Ardyn didn’t even have to try to make Cor want to get on his knees. If he’d been able to at that very moment, he would have dropped without question.

As Ardyn’s fingers tangled into the hair at the back of his neck Cor’s breath was picking up, his pupils wide as he watched him. He felt like his heart was in knots in his throat and a welcome shiver went up his spine when Ardyn spoke to him.

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation, breathless. “I would.”

\--

Cor’s eyes were wide-blown, his mouth part-open, and he looked shattered and hopeless as he stared at Ardyn like Ardyn made the fucking sun rise in the morning. The irony wasn’t lost on him. “Then say it,” Ardyn prompted in naught but a whisper, his own heartbeat loud and sharp in his ears, a pain in his chest. “What am I?”

\--

Ardyn prompted him, fingers tangled tight into his hair, pulling on it, and Cor, with one arm around him, pulled Ardyn closer still. “My King,” he whispered, swallowing hard, and all he wanted was to melt into his arms and stay there. Leaning in, he pressed their foreheads together. “You’re my King.”

\--

When Cor said it, sworn fealty spoken without a hint of hesitation, Ardyn smiled, beatific, and pulled Cor down to him, cupped his cheek. He knew it was meant in a way more of romance and affection than truly in oath of sword and shield, but if Cor wanted to, if he wanted to demand—

“Do you mean it?” Ardyn murmured, gently. “Do you swear to be my sword and shield, Cor Leonis? My right hand in battle?” Ardyn looked down at him, and he knew his eyes weren’t soft; he knew he was as deadly a blade as the one Cor wielded in battle. “Do you swear to live and die by my hand, on your oath?”

\--

Ardyn smiled at him, cupped his cheek, and asked him again. Cor met his eyes, staring back at him, still flushed and touched by his affection, but he listened with all seriousness as Ardyn asked him, asked him to swear an oath. Since Regis’s death, and for so long afterwards, he’d considered Noctis his King, though he’d never sworn him any kind of fealty, only what was left of his loyalty to his father.

But, it was different now. Different, since he found out the full truth, found out who Ardyn was. And there was no question in his mind that Ardyn was the one who owned his heart and soul now, that Ardyn had earned his unshakable loyalty. And he could say, easily and truthfully, with no waver to his voice, “I do.” Though an oath normally would have been taken while kneeling before the throne, and though he could see himself gladly doing just that, even in bed with him, with the way Ardyn looked at him, expecting something (everything) of him, it was just as serious, just as real. 

“I swear,” he said, “Your Majesty. I, Cor Leonis, will be your right hand, in battle and otherwise. I will be your sword and shield. I will live and die by your hand. I will be yours to command, and I will dedicate myself fully to you, mind, body, and soul. My King.” He touched his hair, gently, reverently, and smiled. “I will serve no other.”

\--

His chest felt tight, and Ardyn watched Cor’s face as he swore, as serious as if he’d been kneeling before him at the throne in Insomnia. If Ardyn had needed a throne to be King, he would not have been a King for many an age. It was almost more fitting that the man did it here, in bed, still sweaty and sticky with the fruits of their labours.

“Then,” Ardyn murmured, pulling Cor down, smoothing his hair out of his face, before he pressed a single chaste kiss to his forehead imbued with all the magic that was yet his to give; the Crystal’s blessing not so easily sundered from the blessed. “I give you my power, Cor Leonis, to use as you wilt. May it protect you, as did King Regis, and guide you to safety in battle.”

\--

Ardyn pulled him close, pressed his lips to his forehead, and Cor closed his eyes. In that moment, he felt power flowing through him and it felt… it felt like the Crystal’s blessing or maybe, a lesser version of it. The same power that he’d held for so many years, the gift Regis had given him, that he’d held onto until it slowly faded away, to nothing.

But this, though similar, was different even, than that. It felt warmer, made him feel stronger. A power for him alone, as Ardyn’s singular knight. He sighed with it as the surge passed over him and melted towards the other man. That power… it would mean he imbue his blade with it, could summon his weapon from afar, could Warp again… and how valuable that would be, even if he could never allow himself to use it around others.

“Thank you,” he breathed when it was done, curling against him, smiling. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

\--

Ardyn cupped Cor’s cheeks, soothed the stress from his brow. “You have no need to thank me, Marshal.” How strange, to be someone’s King again. He had forgotten how to do it properly. “You swore your troth, and I have given you your rightful power in return. That is, after all, how all this works.” With that done, he felt oddly lighter (and heavier, as it always did to share his magic with another, a feeling he’d not had in beyond the lifetimes of a hundred men) and soon enough, their words turned to softer topics, and their bodies toward one another, and their minds to rest.

He slept little that night, as he often did. It was the reassuring beat of Cor’s heart that woke him off and on, and he would lay there, sprawled across the other man’s sheets, head pillowed on the powerful muscles of his chest, and listen to it beat. Every beat was just another second, another minute, another hour, another day. It was a clock winding down for Ardyn, but it was a tick that he could not have gone without even had he begged. He liked the reassurance that he was not yet truly alone.

Eventually, though, as the shifting city outside the windows began to change, the quality of the air and the bustle and the noise and the artificial light signalling that the simulated Lestallum day was coming, Ardyn finally dropped off properly. He didn’t _need_ to sleep, not like other people did, but he also didn’t _need_ to have sex until his hips felt so bruised he couldn’t move his thighs, and he’d done that anyway too. Besides, with the simulated dawn, that meant Cor was rising for his meeting, and Ardyn had all-but-promised to be waiting when the man got back.

\--

Cor found it easy, as he often did, to fall asleep with Ardyn there, warm against him. He slept deeply, with the other man’s head pillowed on his chest, and awoke shortly after dawn, when the lights of the city began to brighten, shining in through the curtains.

Ardyn was a heavy, comfortable weight against him, and surprisingly asleep, his eyes closed, his breath slow and even. Cor laid there with him for a few minutes longer, gently stroked his hair and watched the light streaming into the room and the way it played across the sheets and the two of them, tangled together.

But, he knew Monica would be showing up soon to collect him for the meeting, and he reluctantly eased himself out from under the other man, tucked him in, and went about his morning routine. He showered, combed his hair, hunted around for the pieces of his uniform, strewn across the apartment, put them back on, and made breakfast. As he was scarfing down his oatmeal, there was a knock at the door and he went to get it. She was a little early, but there was Monica, looking harried.

“I know I’m early,” she said, by way of apology, “and you don’t like other people in your apartment but can I come in for a few minutes? Iris and Talcott are arguing over who has to watch Myra today and they’re all driving me mad.”

“Um,” Cor said, holding the door open a little wider. He glanced over his shoulder but… he couldn’t really say _no_ to that. Maybe he would just close the bedroom door. “Yeah. Come on in. I’m just eating breakfast, then we can leave.”

Brushing past him, she toddled into the apartment, and before he could stop her, she’d peered oh-so-discreetly into the bedroom just as Cor was easing his way over to pull the door closed.

She gasped. “ _Cor_.”

“Yes?” he asked slowly, like absolutely nothing was wrong. But of course, there was, the thing that was wrong being that from that angle, it was very obvious that someone else was in his bed, even if all you could see was the slight curve of a shoulder and a tousled head of wavy red hair.

He was ready for the _I was right_ look, but what she gave him instead was mild disbelief. “I thought you were _gay_.”

“I am,” he said, equally confused, and she tried to peer around him to get a look but he’d already very pointedly closed the door so she couldn’t.

“I thought you liked _older_ men with _black_ hair.”

“I…. did,” he worked out.

She sat down heavily on his couch, looking bewildered and still very annoyed at the three children taking up her apartment, even if Iris was now nineteen and practically an adult. “Well,” she said, “when do I get to meet…” she paused, fishing for the right pronoun and settled on, “them?”

“Him,” Cor corrected, even he wasn’t completely sure that was the best idea. “And, I don’t know. It’s not… really… well…” He couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a relationship when it was. “I don’t know,” he said again.

She huffed at him and he went back to the kitchen to get his oats and finish them off. “I’m not letting this go, Marshal,” she said, and he sighed. Monica never let _anything_ go. “It’s only right that you introduce your partner to us, we’re practically your family.”

He was sweating bullets at that, and set his empty bowl in the sink when he’d finished off the last of it. “I know,” he said, grabbing his coat. “Let’s just… go. Please.”

“All right.” She stood. “I’m sure Ignis is already there anyway, and the others should be along shortly.” And then, finally, they left, even if Cor knew he’d be subjected to her pointed stares all the way to the meeting room.

\--

Ardyn dozed when Cor climbed out of bed, left cold and slightly uncomfortable, and was only dragged a little further toward consciousness when he heard a knock on the door. He could hear Cor talking to someone, and rolled over slightly, pulling the covers up when Cor shut the door.

He could hear Monica clearly enough, of course, and he lay there for a time after they met. She’d seen him, and not recognised him—but they had, of course, never actually met. It was still so strange to hear Cor talking to her about him like he wasn’t there, like he wasn’t sure what they were. What _were_ they, though?

He was too old to be someone’s _boyfriend_. After a time he got up and dragged his ass to the shower and cleaned up, scrubbing Cor’s shampoo into his hair, combing it and intentionally leaving maroon hairs all over the other man’s bathroom. His hips ached something fierce, and his ass hurt, but it wasn’t something he could do much of anything about. He just leaned his head against the shower wall and thought about what he was supposed to do about this.

Ardyn didn’t get out until the shower ran cold, and then towel-dried his hair sitting on Cor’s bathroom sink, water dripping down his face and over his eyebrows. How Monica had talked about wanting to meet him, and what she might say if she knew who that mop of red hair in the other man’s bed had belonged to. When he was done drying his hair, Ardyn turned to look at himself in the mirror, and dragged a hand over his face. It wouldn’t be too hard to wear another skin.

He had before.

A little shorter. A little fatter, softening the curves of his hips, the prominent jut of his chin and jaw. His hair a little longer, spilling down around his shoulderblades. He’d had it that long, when he was young, and it curled more with the length, bouncing into the air around his face. There should have been grey, if he had been someone else, so strands here and there, peeling back from his forehead, glinting in the low light of the bathroom overhead. Eyes, greener, less amber, less brown. Another face looked at him out of the mirror, someone else, someone who.

Someone who would die, and someone who Cor’s friends could like and someone who—

Ardyn dropped it and looked away rather than stare at his own face, and pretended he hadn’t thought, for just a moment, about what it would be like to just _stay_.

\--

Predictably, Monica did not let it go. She pestered him about it again even just before the meeting began, and when they were done, the boys asked if any of them wanted to go get coffee and Cor politely declined. Monica made a quiet comment under her breath to Dustin that it was because Cor had to go be with his boyfriend, and then Cor found himself snapping at all of them to leave him alone, not that it was helping the situation at all, but they were driving him mad and he needed his space. So, he left.

By the time he got back to the apartment he was feeling moderately better, enough that he didn’t think he’d snap at Ardyn too much, just on edge. If anyone knocked, he wasn’t answering.

Closing the door behind him and stepping into his own space was a relief, at the least, and he went to look for Ardyn, tired and annoyed.

\--

Without Cor, Ardyn eventually just settled on digging through the other man’s belongings. In the time he’d spent unsupervised at the apartment, he’d rarely gone looking for anything, but he was in a right temper, and he needed something to _do_. First, he’d washed all of Cor’s dishes, tidied up the kitchen, and then when the Marshal hadn’t been back Ardyn had tossed himself still-naked into the other man’s bed and picked up the book on his nightstand. He’d spent a few centuries just reading over the years, often at a stretch, but not any time recently, and his grasp of reading modern Lucian was basically just from working with Niflheim, and not all that useful for things like fiction reading.

That, too, proved unsatisfying fairly quickly, and Ardyn had just lain there, a hand pressed to his forehead, for a time. This was not working. He needed to go _do_ something, he was frustrated with inactivity and he wanted to see Cor but time was running out. Running out quickly. Even if he wanted to stay, doing so was impractical.

So he got dressed, scrawled out a note and left it on Cor’s nightstand that he was going to be borrowing his book, and left.

\--

As he stripped off his coat and shoes, he noticed that the kitchen was very clean. Ardyn, it seemed, had done his dishes, and tidied it, which he’d not expected though, that meant the man was feeling well enough to walk around, at least.

He half expected to find him in the bedroom, but when he peered in, there was no sign of him. And he wasn’t in the living room, or any of the closets. In the bathroom all he found were wads of maroon hair stuck to the shower walls as some kind of mark of his passing. Cor sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. The sheets were still rumpled. Ardyn’s clothes were gone, too, and on his nightstand where his book used to be was a note which read only that Ardyn had decided to borrow it.

Cor held it in his hand and sighed again, long-suffering. He’d said he would stay for a few days, but apparently, he’d gotten bored and left. Again. “What did I say about his tendency to disappear on me,” he grumbled under his breath.

He could have at least said goodbye. 


	11. i'm not a betting man but this is a sure thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can love me _and_ hurt me, Cor. They aren’t mutually exclusive.” Ardyn dug his nails into the base of Cor’s jaw, to make him part his lips, to bite the tip of his tongue. “I _want_ you to hurt me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [panic! at the disco's "bittersweet"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUZReNjIduA)

In the next few months, Ardyn had other things he needed to worry about. He could feel the clock racing against him, and his own sense of time was so bad it was totally possible that he would miss Noctis coming back. He spent nearly six months trying to find Luna’s body lost deep in the remains of Altissia, and then once he had it had to start cleaning it up, in-between trips to Lestallum.

In there somewhere he and Cor had a row about Ardyn always leaving unexpectedly, with the outcome that Ardyn pointed out he _did_ own a phone, and was actually capable of using it despite his severely advanced age and difficulty with modern technology, if Cor wanted to ever reach him. After that, he could come back whenever Cor wanted him. Which was a lot. When he arrived for his visits it was often with a gift for Cor, like a crow leaving presents—a stack of oracle coins as high as his hand one time, a single Altissian roof tile the next, a Gralean medal.

And always, his hat, left tilted sideways over one of the posts at the foot of Cor’s bed, waiting for Ardyn to come back to get it—a promise that he would be coming back eventually, no matter what.

\--

At the least, Ardyn came to see him on occasion, though not as often as Cor would have liked. He had no idea what Ardyn went off and did, sometimes for weeks before returning to see him. Cor was busy too, of course, training Iris still, going back out on hunts on the rare occasion and making trips out to Hammerhead. But they only had so much time left, and he would have liked to spend as much of that as he could with Ardyn.

Monica pestered him almost daily about meeting his _boyfriend_ , even when Cor started grumbling at her that he hated that term. She was baffled by the fact that, despite all the time they’d supposedly spent together, she’d never seen him and Cor at the same time, and when they went out she’d taken to pointing out every redhead on the streets, men and women alike, asking if it was the right one. Cor, of course, said no every time to the point that she outright asked him where he could possibly be keeping him. There weren’t exactly many people left alive, and even fewer that were redheads. He thought she might be getting to the point where she almost believed she’d imagined the man in his bed that day.

The next time Ardyn showed up, he didn’t press the Monica thing again, but he did call him out because he was tired of Ardyn disappearing without so much as telling him he was leaving. The ensuing row ended up with Ardyn finally giving him his phone number, after something close to four years of dating on and off. He hadn’t even thought Ardyn had one, and it was much more convenient to be able to text him and call him whenever he wanted.

He found out quickly that Ardyn was an abhorrent texter. He was also terrible at leaving gifts, though the small stacks of coins and odds and ends he often found lying about, left purposefully by the other man after he’d gone, were, admittedly, endearing.

After one of his recent visits, nearly five months later, Ardyn finally returned the book he’d taken from Cor’s nightstand as his ‘gift’. It looked like it had been dunked in seawater for six hours and dried out again. It smelled like the ocean, and the pages were all waterlogged. It was disgusting, and Cor shoved it back on his shelf and swore he’d never let Ardyn borrow a book again.

\--

It was nice, having somewhere like home to return to. Ardyn never stayed more than two or three days at a stretch before he became restless and went out again. Some of his plans were better than others, and he was starting to regret Nyx Ulric. That was just more effort than anyone should ever put into anything.

When he did come back to Lestallum—to _home_ —it was to Cor getting older and time moving on, a warm bed and warm hands under his shirt. Ardyn hated how guilty he felt that he kept leaving, but he had no reason to stay locked in the other man’s apartment without him. Even for sex. So it was more gifts (old books he found in Insomnia, memorably every single plate that Cor had left in his apartment there, one and only one of Regis’ shoes) and Ardyn flitting back and forth as he chewed over the idea of staying longer.

Noctis showed no signs of waking. He was going to get bored of this eventually. What would he _do_ if the boy-king slept any longer?

\--

Despite his frequent disappearing acts, Cor got the idea that Ardyn really did want to stay with him. He often practically said as much. And he did stay, for a few days at a time, but Cor knew it must be hard, too, to be stuck there alone when he had to go out. Ardyn could go wherever he wanted to, so why wouldn’t he?

Over the months they spent together with Ardyn coming and going, though, he did get the sense that Ardyn thought of Lestallum and Cor as his home. As where he belonged. He only wished it could have been… different. Easier. He didn’t wish that Ardyn wasn’t who he was, more, he wished they _could_ grow old together. He wished he could tell his friends who the other man was without worrying about being run out of the city. But he also wished he wasn’t constantly worried about how crowded the city was, about keeping Myra and Talcott fed, about keeping _himself_ fed. Wishes had never gotten him anywhere in his life, so he kept moving on.

In his apartment, he had a small collection of Ardyn’s gifts gathered on his desk and in drawers. They were like a reminder, when Ardyn was away, that he would always come back.

Monica, after months of pestering him, had finally started to give up. Maybe she thought they broke up, or that Cor was just losing his mind, he didn’t know, and he didn’t really care anymore. Maybe it was just the sorry state of their city that had forced all of them to think constantly of more important things, less of the mundane like meeting wayward boyfriends.

She invited him and out Iris for coffee one afternoon, after they’d both returned from hunting daemons on the outskirts for the past few days. Iris was talented, quick on her feet, a strong hunter, as he always knew she would be. The two of them were an impeccable team, but the daemon numbers were only increasing, and the existing ones were growing stronger as the months passed. They talked idly at a small table in the crowded cafe, a welcome break when he and Iris were both exhausted from their trip.

\--

Afternoon in Lestallum meant that the streetlights were turned on low and in the distance the Meteor burned. Ardyn didn’t really feel the slightest bit of sadness that they’d ended Titan’s present form; he had very little affection for the Astrals, after everything they had done. This visit, not the missing Archaen, was more what had left him strangely melancholic; it was his first time around other humans aside from Cor in the time since the Starscourge had come, and Ardyn enjoyed it, just the. Bodies and the heat and the chatter.

Cor hadn’t been in his apartment when Ardyn had returned, and he had only hesitated a little before going out for the first time, sashaying through the city streets and wearing a face that was not-quite-but-almost his own. Lestallum proper wasn’t huge, and finding the man wasn’t hard. He was sitting at a café drinking coffee, with two women. The older was Monica, the younger had to be Iris (she had Clarus’ strong jaw, and her brother’s thick, dark hair), and they were both laughing at something the Marshal had said as Ardyn walked over and, without any ceremony at all, tipped himself into Cor’s lap in a tangle of limbs and scarves, and smiled up at the other man.

“Hello."

\--

Cor was telling Monica about what he and Iris had seen, and they talked about the weather and the coffee and the over-crowded city. He only saw someone approach out of the corner of his eye and thought little of it at first. And then someone very large and red-headed and wearing what were definitely _his_ jeans toppled directly into his lap.

Cor froze, staring wide-eyed at him as the other man greeted the three of them. He was about to say his name in alarm but choked it down because this man, he now realized, looked almost (but not quite) exactly like Ardyn Lucis Caelum Izunia, his beloved boyfriend who he hadn’t seen in what was now at least a month. And now he was. Here. In Cor’s lap. His face was a little different, a little less chin and nose, no stubble, slightly greener eyes. His hair was longer, the grey showing more visibly at his temples and his forehead rather than just a few strands here and there, tied back to keep it out of his face, and he had large horn rim glasses on his face with maroon frames. Cor had no idea where he’d gotten the clothes he was wearing, but yes, those were definitely his jeans, and he’d found nice shoes somewhere, and a button down shirt and cardigan that had the first few buttons open, showing off his pale neck and his collarbone. He looked like he should weigh more, too, visible love handles and less curve to his hips. But still, despite the differences, it was definitely _Ardyn_ , and in those clothes, all he could do was stare at him helplessly, feeling hot all over.

“Oh my god,” Monica said after a moment, putting her hand to her lips. “He’s _real_.”

Iris, on the other hand, was looking at them like this was the most romantic thing she’d ever seen. “Aw, cute. I’ve never seen the Marshal speechless like that.”

Cor cleared his throat, glanced at them, and looked back at Ardyn. “This is,” he said, stumbling over his words in his incredible confusion on multiple levels. He had so many questions, but Monica and Iris were there. “Well,” he said at last, and put his arm around Ardyn’s waist. “There you are. Why don’t you introduce yourself,” he paused. “Darling?” He motioned to the other two. “This is Monica and Iris.”

\--

Ardyn winked at Cor, who was staring at him like Ardyn had just grown a second head. He, admittedly, hadn’t exactly made this an easy reveal for Cor, but if he wanted this he was going to get it on Ardyn’s terms or not at all. He was blushing. It was cute.

At _darling_ Ardyn cocked an eyebrow but let it go, stretching his legs out and leaning his head against Cor’s shoulder like it belonged there. “Finally I see them in the flesh.” He’d had time to think about what he would say. “I’m Altum.” It was a direct translation of the meaning of his name into Old Lucian, and close enough that Cor probably would be able to fake it. “It’s _lovely_ to meet you.” He held out a hand for both of the women to shake.

Monica, though, had seemed unsure he was real. “Marshal,” Ardyn continued, not with the slightest intention of moving, “Monica seems surprised to see me in the flesh. What _have_ you been telling them?”

\--

He felt weird to call him darling. He immediately regretted it. But honestly, all words felt like they should be coming out as muffled shrieking because Ardyn had never sat on his lap before unless they were currently in the act of having sex, and this was _in public_ , and he felt like he was going to straight up expire any minute from desperately trying to keep himself from getting hard. It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen him in weeks, that he’d been waiting for him to come back, had missed him terribly. It felt like it was all some kind of carefully orchestrated petty revenge. (It probably was.)

The name he’d picked, at least, wasn’t all that different from his own. He could remember Altum. But more likely, he’d just avoid using his name if he could, that was easier.

They shook hands, Ardyn leaning back against his shoulder, his head tucked there perfectly, and Cor just breathed and tried to relax when it became even more clear the other man definitely wasn’t getting up.

“Well,” he said when Ardyn asked, “nothing bad of course.” He smiled a little. “I told you Monica has been asking about you. I just kept telling her, we weren’t ready to take that step yet, even though we’ve been seeing each other for a long time. That’s why you turning up so suddenly surprised me.” But because it seemed appropriate and, now that he was talking he felt a little bit less like he was going to melt into a very unfortunate overwhelmed puddle, he kissed Ardyn on the forehead and smiled fondly at him.

“Yes,” Monica said. “He’s been telling me for months you weren’t ready to meet us. I thought at this point you might be some figment of the Marshal’s imagination.” She laughed a little. “It’s good to finally meet you, even if it is a little less formal than I thought it would be.”

\--

Cor looked a little dazed, and Ardyn could feel the other man’s cock nudging slightly at his ass, so he shifted his hips just to emphasise the jeans. Cor had asked for this, and now he could read it and weep. “Oh, you should know by now, I only ever turn up suddenly.” The day that Ardyn arrived when Cor expected him to was still a far cry off. He liked being able to arrive whenever he wanted.

Cor seemed happy, though. Perhaps happier than he had been in some time.

“I’m not very formal,” Ardyn continued, laughing. “Why, I’m certainly nobody of consequence, why try to be something I’m not? We can’t _all_ be the Marshal of the Crownsguard.”

\--

Cor let out a quiet, wheezing breath when Ardyn shifted on his lap. He knew Ardyn was doing everything with intent, he always did, and Cor also knew he deserved this because Ardyn, undoubtedly, still wasn’t happy about having to meet Monica as anyone other than himself. But still.

“That’s true,” Cor agreed, trying to very subtly get himself to deflate. “He’s so mysterious,” he half-laughed, like it was a big joke although it was… pretty true. He was mysterious in a petty, in-your-face sort of way, and an ass at that. But Cor loved him.

He snorted at him for the Marshal comment, though. “Please, Altum,” he grumbled, flushing again. “I think Monica just meant she thought we would… have dinner together. But since you’re here, well, I think this is good enough for now.”

“It’s fine,” Monica said. “I’m just glad to meet you, finally. Now I know why Cor has his door locked all the time.” She laughed a little. “But it’s a good thing, he needs someone to take care of him. He’s been lonely ever since Insomnia fell.”

“ _Monica_ ,” Cor hissed through clenched teeth.

“Oh, yeah,” Iris said, pillowing her chin on her folded hands, kicking her feet beneath the table. “I want to hear all about how you met!”

“Oh…,” Cor said, frowning because he hadn’t even considered that at all. “Right. Why don’t you tell them, Altum?”

\--

“This _could_ be dinner,” Ardyn mused, but he wouldn’t have eaten anything. He didn’t need it, and the people of Lestallum had to eat. No point in them wasting their precious food on him. Ardyn turned a single eye on the other man. “It’s sad to hear he’s been so lonely. I suppose all this time I’ve been traveling he’s not known what to do with himself.” Like Cor hadn’t practically fallen into Ardyn’s open arms right after the end of the war.

Or, well, Ardyn had tripped him, and not bothered to catch him, and then pinned him down, and then ridden him. But it worked out.

Straightening on Cor’s lap and sliding over to the chair next to the other man, Ardyn relaxed into his most artful sprawl, all about the curve of his hip and the stretch of his thigh. “Well, it was a little messy, so I shall _spare_ you the details. Our dear Marshal does have a temper, and my poor old car had a rather unfortunate ragged patch after all was said and done. But we’ve moved on.” He patted Cor’s hand. “No hard feelings.”

\--

Monica and Ardyn in the same place were going to be the death of him. Cor sighed. “I do miss you when you’re away,” he admitted. At least it wasn’t completely unusual to travel, especially for hunters, and it was easy enough to let Monica and Iris make their own assumptions.

Finally, Ardyn moved off his lap and Cor pointedly slid his chair closer to the table, discreetly crossing his legs at the ankle as he watched the other man sprawl. He was very talented at it, and the clothes he wore were much different than his usual bulky coat, though he still retained a few ‘tasteful’ scarves. They accentuated his waist and his hips and his thighs, the different look good on him, and Cor felt his mouth go dry all over again. He was barely even paying attention to what Ardyn was telling them for a moment and then blinked and nodded.

“Yes,” he said as the other man patted his hand. “We had a little fight, that was all. But then we got to know each other and… well. It worked out.”

Iris looked pleased with that, smiling at them. “Neat,” she said. “That’s so nice, I’m so happy for you, Marshal. Maybe Mister Altum could come train with us sometime, I bet he’d like to watch.”

“Uh… yeah,” Cor said, still staring at Ardyn.

\--

Ardyn laughed and held both of his hands up theatrically, and tipped his sleeves forward as if to reveal that there was nothing up them. “I am, unfortunately, unarmed. I’ve no great talent for the martial arts. You hunters really are keeping people like me safe. I’m afraid against you in the training arena all I would be able to do is lose without the slightest hope of victory.” He stretched his foot out under the table as he said it and dug the toe of his shoe into Cor’s ankle, dragged it up his leg to tuck it into the warmth of his inner thigh. “I’m afraid Cor would know something about that, wouldn’t you?” He fluttered his eyelashes at the other man. “I’ve never been able to stand up to him in the _slightest_.”

\--

“You’re unarmed?” Iris gasped, grinning. “Wow, I really thought you were a hunter too. Well, it’s our pleasure to protect the people.” She seemed way too amused by him, but at least her gushing had Monica’s attention because Ardyn was dragging the toe of his shoe up Cor’s ankle in a way that made him shudder a little too much. His unfortunate erection was starting to make a resurgence as he looked at him and frowned.

“I suppose that’s true,” he said, trying to remain as calm and collected as possible, even if the way Ardyn was fluttering his lashes at him made him feel weak, all of him itching to pull the other man against him, to kiss him, _something_. It was pathetic, just how easily Ardyn could get to him, and he _knew_ he was wrapped around the other man’s finger and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. It was so different when they were alone and he could do whatever he wanted, he’d forgotten how hard it was to resist.

Cor managed a laugh, shaking his head. The opposite was true, of course, but instead he said, “That’s right. I tried to teach him one time but he’s an unfortunately hopeless case. Not that he has anything to worry about as long as I’m there to watch out for him.”

\--

It really was almost sad just how open Cor was leaving himself. Ardyn didn’t have to even try to find ways to push his buttons. “Really, though, Marshal.” He leaned over, an arm slung around Cor’s shoulders. He would have dropped his voice, but that would have been too obvious. Instead, he did it completely seriously, like there was nothing out of the ordinary. “You’ve quite a talent with how you handle a sword. You’ve shown me _so_ many times, and I can’t ever seem to get it right. Maybe I just need to get my hands on a blade more often. Practice makes perfect, after all.”

\--

Ardyn slung an arm over his shoulders, and Cor practically held his breath and waited for the moment he was going to snap and jump the other man. As it was, Cor just stared at him as he spoke, flushing bright red, because, no matter how seriously he said it, Cor knew the undertones were completely purposefully and meant to suggest absolutely everything he thought they suggested. And what made it worse was that he knew Ardyn was doing it to get to him, and he was giving the other man exactly what he wanted by looking at him like he was two seconds away from crawling into his pants.

“Yeah,” he managed, breathy and a little dazed.

And of course, Iris had to chime in with, “Yeah, the Marshal’s a really great teacher, I used to have no idea how to use a sword and he’s spent years teaching me now. Still, I don’t think I’ll ever be good as him.”

And, Monica. “He’s got all kinds of students under his wing, but, well, I’m sure you know that. I don’t see why you couldn’t learn, too, if you really wanted to.”

Cor felt simultaneously like wanted to laugh, and also like he was going to lose his mind. “I’d love to try again,” he said, trying so hard to get back at him when he knew he was just going to end up shoving his foot in his mouth. “We should arrange private lessons.”

\--

It was almost cute that Cor was trying to give as good as he got, and was failing. Completely. He couldn’t even make the innuendos good. Ardyn gave the other man his best wide-eyed look of innocent surprise and alarm at the same moment as he leaned forward just slightly further and set his palm on the other man’s thigh, fingers sliding too-lightly over the hard line of his cock under the ridge of his fly. “Why, Marshal,” Ardyn whispered, looking at the two women like he was scandalised, “You’re talking as if you’ve another sort of private lesson in mind entirely. That’s a little fresh of you.”

Iris had pressed both of her hands over her mouth and was giggling.

\--

Ardyn gave him his best imitation of a look of complete shock and Cor sighed at him, stiffening as the other man’s hand pressed to his thigh, fingers just barely brushing his cock. Cor swallowed, hard. “I’m not,” he said, but he was flushing and Iris was giggling and Monica was sighing at him. He could already feel that she was going to be talking to him privately later about her impression of ‘Altum’ whether he liked it or not.

“I was just agreeing with. All of you.” There was no way he was going to get a leg up in this and he knew it. He never could win, with Ardyn. The other man always got exactly what he wanted in the end, but Cor liked that about him. It was just frustrating, sometimes, but as it was, it was hard to be frustrated when he desperately wanted everything Ardyn was just shy of offering. He just wished the man would stop doing it in front of Monica and Iris, even if that was the point.

“I… need to use the toilet,” he said at last, because if Ardyn went any further he really was going to lose it and he did not want that to happen in public and in front of Monica and Iris. He just needed a minute to cool down, that was all. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and very quickly pulled away from Ardyn and stood, weaving his way through the people to the bathroom.

\--

Cor practically booked it, and Ardyn sighed after he left. “Was it something I said, I wonder?” He mused to the women. Monica was looking vaguely shell-shocked and Iris’ eyes were the size of her head. He traded a few more words with them, discussing where he had been, what he had been doing, but when Cor still didn’t return, Ardyn dramatically pushed his hair out of his face and stood. “I think I had better go check on him,” he confided. “I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t hard to follow Cor. Ardyn found him in the public market restroom, locked in a stall, and he knocked on the stall door. “You know,” Ardyn murmured, “I can take care of that problem for you.”

\--

The bathroom was, blessedly, empty, and he took a long moment there just leaning on the sink and catching his breath. His erection was painfully obvious and no amount of breathing exercises and splashing cold water on his face would make it go away.

Eventually, he slid into one of the stalls and locked it just in case anyone else came in, and leaned back against the door. Jerking off into the toilet felt pathetic, given what he really wanted, but he had to get back to the table or they were going to wonder where he’d gone.

He was about to do it anyway when someone else came in the bathroom and he froze until there was a quiet knock on the door and Ardyn’s voice. Cor slumped against the stall door, then sighed and opened it, peering out at him. “Please,” he muttered, half moaning in pent up frustration. He’d caused it, anyway, and Cor wanted nothing more than for Ardyn to help him with it, even if he was also ticked that he’d flirted with him to that extent in front of his friends.

\--

Cor sounded _frustrated_ , his deep voice tight and a half-hearted moan trapped in his throat as he opened the door for Ardyn to slide in after him. He locked it behind him, and slid a hand around the back of Cor’s neck to kiss him, fingers grabbing at his lapels. “You seem a little frustrated, Marshal,” he murmured, smiling into the other man’s lips. “I’m sure you can ask a man nicely to do you a favour. After all,” he bit at Cor’s lower lip, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin, “King’s don’t just kneel for _anyone_.”

\--

Ardyn slipped into the stall with him, locked the door, and pulled him closer. Cor went willingly, kissing him open-mouthed and melting down into it, leaning against him and pressing his cock to Ardyn’s hip, moaning at the heat and just that slight bit of friction. He ached terribly, and this was what he wanted, what he’d been waiting for.

“I _am_ frustrated,” he agreed, panting against his lips. “I haven’t seen you in _weeks_.” He shoved their faces together, and he just couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with him when he wanted him so much. Ardyn bit at his lip, teeth scraping his skin, and Cor moaned again, quietly between them.

He knew exactly what Ardyn wanted, and he felt like he was so far gone already, the thought of it made him far too hot even in the few layers he was wearing. He was flushing terribly. “Please,” he got out, voice cracking a little from how worked up he was. “Please, Your Majesty. I beg of you to kneel for me. To suck my cock. I _beg_ you.”

\--

Cor leaned up against him, hard cock pressing to his hip, and Ardyn smiled up into their kiss. “Oh you make it sound like I’ve been ignoring you something _awful_ ,” he murmured, sliding his hands down to hook his fingers over the other man’s belt. “A man can be busy, Cor.” But maybe Ardyn had bit off more than he could chew, pushing Cor into begging, because he could _feel_ his eyes dilate, his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, his heart rate rise.

“Well,” he murmured, sliding down to kneel, hanging onto Cor’s hip with one hand and the stall wall with the other to shift his weight down, keeping his bad hip stiff, fumbling with shaky fingers to undo the other man’s fly, “You weren’t _nearly_ this polite last time. I’ve trained you well, I suppose.”

\--

Cor did feel like Ardyn had been, well, maybe not ignoring him, but he had been gone a long time. Longer than he usually was. He was sure it was purposeful, but at the moment he didn’t really care, he just wanted him. And after years and years of actually speaking properly to royalty, the begging came out so naturally he barely even thought about what he was saying.

He could feel Ardyn’s heart pounding in his chest when he pressed his hands there. Ardyn was still acting like he was completely together even if he wasn’t, and Cor wanted almost too much to be the one kneeling and not the other way around. Still, Ardyn slid down to his knees, fumbling at his fly, and Cor felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched him. “You have,” he agreed, flushed, and grabbed his hair with one hand, sliding his fingers in up to his hair tie. “Do you want me to ask permission,” he swallowed, hard, “Your Majesty?”

\--

Cor got his fingers into Ardyn’s hair, knotted up by his hair tie, and started pulling. It was probably the curls—with his hair as short as he had it now, it didn’t curl near as much as it did when it was longer. And now Cor was getting a full-on look at it; or at least at a simulacrum of it. “You had better,” Ardyn murmured, settling down on his heels as he got Cor’s cock out of his slacks, leaning forward to lick at the slit, damp and dripping. “We can’t have you making a mess, Marshal.”

\--

Cor looked down at him, breathing heavily as Ardyn pulled his cock out into the open, hissing between his teeth. “I will,” he promised quietly, sagging back against the wall and moaning as Ardyn licked at the slit, shuddering all over. “Yes,” he breathed, anticipating so much more than just that touch. Having his dick sucked in a public bathroom was, at least, maybe one step more appropriate than having it sucked behind a diner.

Tangling his fingers back into Ardyn’s hair, he started to work out his hair tie so he could get a better grip on it. It was longer now, curlier, and he wanted to get his hands in it. “Please.”

\--

Cor was pulling out his hair tie, and Ardyn sighed, put-upon, but didn’t _stop_ the man, just got a better grip on the base of his erection and leaned forward, sucking gently on the head to get a taste of Cor’s salty precome. It had been too, too long since he’d sucked Cor off. He hummed at it, pleased, and closed his eyes, getting to work. Cor was already so hard and needy, so hot under his mouth, but Ardyn had a plan, and as much as he wanted to fuck his throat on Cor’s hot cockhead, he wasn’t going to. He was just going to suck his slit, tongue pressing just into it, and not give Cor what he wanted.

If he wanted, he could take.

\--

Ardyn’s fingers wrapped around the base of his cock as he sucked on the head, just the head, and it _was_ good, but Cor wanted more, deeper. Pulling out his hair tie the rest of the way, he finally got both of his hands tangled tight into his hair, knotting his fingers into his long red curls.

“Ardyn,” he growled under his breath, pressing his fingers to the back of his head and dragging him closer as he watched him. He didn’t have the patience for the other man to take all day.

\--

Cor got his hair loose and tangled his fingers into it, dragged Ardyn closer, but he stuck to his guns and didn’t let Cor get him further than perhaps another half-inch, Ardyn’s lips stretching around his shaft as he sank just a little bit further and stopped again, hollowing his cheeks with suction. He glanced up at Cor and smiled around his mouthful, glasses shoved up his nose slightly. He fluttered his eyelashes, innocently. Like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

\--

Rather than let Cor pull him any closer, Ardyn resisted the pull of his fingers, stilling when he was another half-inch down. Cor moaned in frustration as he sucked on just the head still. He flushed when the other man looked up at him, swallowed, and frowned. Even after all the flirting, Ardyn was _still_ playing with him. That look in his eyes didn’t fool him for an instant, even if it did make his cock throb.

“You,” he growled, twisting his fingers tighter into his hair and pulling, “are going go make me lose my mind.” He was already mostly there, a short cry from fucking him then and there and that was, when he thought about it, most likely what Ardyn really wanted, though it was hard to tell what Ardyn wanted, ever. “Quit teasing.”

\--

Ardyn laughed around Cor’s cock and pulled back, licking the lines of saliva and pre that were connecting his lips to the other man’s cockhead up to clean his mouth. “Am I driving you mad?” He asked, completely straight-faced, tucking a loose curl back behind one ear. “You seem a little uncomfortable, Marshal.” As he said it, he stroked Cor once from base to tip and back again, considering. “I feel like you want something from me, but I haven’t the faintest idea _what_.”

\--

Ardyn laughed and Cor shivered and scowled at him. He didn’t even have to answer that question, Ardyn knew, he knew all too well. And he didn’t stop teasing him, of course he didn’t. Those slow strokes were driving him mad just as much as Ardyn’s voice and the look he was giving him.

“You know exactly what I want,” he said, tangling his fingers in his hair up to the back of his neck, watching his eyes. Ardyn was giving him the most innocent, delighted expression, and it reminded him so much of their earlier months together, when he had no idea who this man was, he just knew he wanted to fuck him. “You disappear for a month and then come back and flirt with me in front of my friends until I’m aching for you, and now you’re still teasing me.” He was really trying not to shout, keeping his voice as low and contained as he could but he could feel the intensity of it, driven by maddening arousal. “You want me to come and take it, is that it?”

\--

Ardyn looked down, coy. “I’m quite sure I don’t,” he replied, as he lapped the spilling pre from Cor’s slit. Despite the fact that he was torturing the man into waiting, Cor certainly was enjoying it. His patience would be rewarded. Ardyn thumbed the other man’s cockhead and ran the upper part of his his cheek down the side, let it slide slick over his face to leave a shiny, damp streak by his mouth, avoiding leaving Cor stubble burn on his penis. It was bad enough on his thighs. “I certainly wouldn’t say _no_. You’re no fun when you’re all talk and no cock, Marshal.”

\--

Cor couldn’t help but moan as the other man licked at his cock, tongue pressing into the slit to lap up everything he was already spilling. He rocked his hips into it, aching for more, for friction and heat, because all those gentle touches really were making him lose his mind, all of it so good and not nearly enough.

When Ardyn rubbed his cheek against the head, leaving a slick smear of precome by his lips, he was so hard his fingers were trembling in the other man’s hair and he felt like he was on fire and on the verge of coming already, if he could just shove his cock in him. And with that invitation, he grumbled, “Come here, then,” and dragged him up again by his hair, turned and shoved him back against the wall of the stall and slammed their mouths together. _This_ was what he’d really wanted, what he’d been itching for, the two of them pressed close, and he shoved his cock hard against Ardyn’s hip not caring about the damp marks he’d leave there as he undid the fly of the other man’s jeans, pulling them open so he could drag them down. “I’ve been much too gentle with you,” he ground out, biting at his lips, “haven’t I, Your Majesty?”

\--

Cor sounded so put-upon, and Ardyn laughed again, let the other man drag him up and relied on him for balance as he got shoved against the wall of the stall. He looped his arms around Cor’s neck, fingers dragging between his shoulderblades, and brought his knees together so that Cor could drag his jeans down. “You really have been,” he replied, biting at Cor’s lower lip lazily. “I’m not anything breakable, Marshal. You really ought to work on getting your frustration out.” Ardyn dug his nails into Cor’s back, tilted his head back to bare his throat. “It’s just the same as sparring, only you’re using your cock.”

\--

Ardyn’s arms looped around his neck and Cor dragged his jeans down as far as he could manage and shoved his cock against his thigh, grinding it there, letting out a long, shaky breath. Cor just snorted at him, tangled his fingers tight into his hair again, and gladly took the invitation to bite down hard on the side of his neck, to suck at his skin. Even though it had only been a few weeks it felt like years again, and he nuzzled down beneath his scarves to bite at his neck there, too, lower.

He pulled back just enough to suck on his fingers, knocked the other man’s thighs apart with his knee, and brought his hand around to press one finger up his ass and work in another alongside it. The scarves he wore, too, he was itching to get his hands in and he let go of his hair to twist them around the other man’s neck, letting out a shaky breath against his skin. “Oh, I missed this,” he ground out. “I can’t wait to shove my cock in you.”

\--

Cor bit at his neck, and Ardyn muffled a noise in the back of his throat. “Those will show,” He pointed out, since he usually wore such a high collar that they wouldn’t. Monica and iris would certainly be getting an eyeful. There was no way Cor was going to be able to easily hoist his legs up, not with the jeans still trapped around his ankles, not with his bad hip, so Ardyn just splayed his thighs as far as they could go to give the other man room to work.

Which was kind of pointless, because Cor was just spitting on his fingers and dragging Ardyn over by his scarves, putting pressure on his throat. Ardyn made an affirmative noise, because he had missed this, he had missed Cor over him and next to him and _inside_ him but he’d missed most being himself and not having Cor treat him like something else, and Ardyn grabbed the other man by his neck, dragged his head up, and bit _hard_ at the bared line of his throat over his adam’s apple. Hard enough to draw blood.

“You can love me _and_ hurt me, Cor. They aren’t mutually exclusive.” Ardyn dug his nails into the base of Cor’s jaw, to make him part his lips, to bite the tip of his tongue. “I _want_ you to hurt me.”

\--

“I don’t care,” Cor mumbled. Monica and Iris were old enough to know that he had sex, and that he was probably having sex right now. They were smart, he couldn’t hide anything from them, Monica especially. So, there was no point in hiding it, not when he was already so desperate he didn’t give a damn about being careful.

He twisted his fingers up deep inside the other man, forcing them in and spreading them. Ardyn dragged his head up, bit hard at his throat, and Cor let out a quiet, strangled moan. “Then I will,” he growled, leaning in to bite hard at Ardyn’s lower lip after the other man bit his tongue, leaving it stinging. He dug his teeth into his lip harder than he ever had, until he tasted blood there, too, grabbed his hair and jerked on it enough to slam his head back against the wall so he could lean in and bite down beneath the line of his jaw, shoving a third finger up into him to stretch him wider. He curved his fingers up, finding his prostate and pressed down on it. “I can hurt you _because_ I love you,” he ground out, moved down his neck a little and bit him there, too. “Because you want it so much.” The more marks, the better. He wanted to leave him even more a mess than he ever had before.

\--

Cor bit hard enough at his lower lip that it bled, and not just a few drops either. Ardyn had only been half-hard before but now he _ached_ , moaning in ragged want as the other man grabbed him by his hair and slammed the top of his head back against the plastic wall of the public stall. It wasn’t hard enough to leave him seeing stars, but he still felt dazed anyway, so hopelessly turned on and _pleased_ that his ploy had worked. The third finger in him, digging into his prostate, wasn’t helping either. “Oh, fuck off,” he groaned, pointlessly since he was riding Cor’s hand like the world was about to fucking end, his eyes shut and his heart in his throat. “I don’t care why you do it just as long as you choke me until I pass out in the morning, gods.”

\--

As soon as Cor started biting him and shoving his fingers in him Ardyn got hard, fast, moaning against him, and Cor ground hard against his hip in turn, aching even more. The other man was fucking himself on his fingers and Cor shoved them up into him deeper, pulling them out and pressing them back in again. “I will,” he muttered, finally wrenching his fingers out.

Since he couldn’t get his thighs open enough to fuck him while facing him, he grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, shoving him face first against the wall and closing in behind him, spreading the cheeks of his ass with one hand and pressing his cock to his entrance. Just the feel of it made him jerk his hips, and he let out a slow breath, shuddering. He got the head in, moaning at how tight he was, how hot, and jerked his hips forward again, pushing in further, hard. Grabbing the other man’s wrist, he pressed his hand against the wall to pin him there, grabbed his hair with the other and pulled his head to one side so he could lean in and bite at his neck again as he pressed his cock in deeper, inch by inch. He almost, almost wished for lube so he could slide in all at once, though the aching burn that he knew would hurt like hell was just as good.

\--

Cor took what he was given and before long Ardyn was shoved face-first up against the bathroom stall, laughing low in his throat as Cor dragged fingers out of him and chased the stretch with his cockhead, pushing into him in one too-quick slide. It had been a month, but he’d died more than once in the intervening time, and he’d tightened all right back up. Cor pinned him down by his wrist and his hair, dragging on his curls, biting at his neck as he forced the rest of the way home, Ardyn clenching down as hard as he could and moaning in pain at the force it took for Cor to breach him, to fuck home and bottom out. He could have relaxed, made it easier, but like this it was _better_.

“A little presumptive of you, Marshal,” Ardyn gasped, and pressing his forehead against the stall wall. “It’s bad manners to come in a King.”

\--

Ardyn was laughing low in a way that sent shivers up Cor’s spine as he got his cock in him, all of him tight and hot and glorious, and he bit down harder on the side of his neck as he forced himself in deep, then deeper, Ardyn moaning against him and clenching around him. It was so good, like that, all pain and ache and brute force and heat.

He growled quietly, settling in the other man and rocking his hips slowly up into him to get himself going. He twisted his fingers around his scarf, pulled it tight around his neck and bit at the shell of his ear, beneath his hair. “Is that so?” he asked, voice grating. “Then I’m afraid your Marshal doesn’t have very good manners when it comes to fucking you, with all due respect, Your Majest—” He stopped, choking down his own words and coughing into Ardyn’s hair as he heard the sudden squeal of the bathroom door opening.

Cor froze. Someone else’s footsteps echoed across the floor. The door to the other stall opened, and he could hear whoever it was going about the business of unzipping their trousers and pulling their pants down. Cor, without even thinking about it, tightened his trip on Ardyn’s scarf, pulled it up against his throat. He still rocked into him gently, chasing a little bit of friction but not wanting to fuck him as wildly as he wanted when there was someone else _right there_.

\--

If Ardyn hadn’t been hard enough to fucking combust before, he was the moment that Cor, intentionally or not, called himself _his Marshal_. His. Not Regis’, not Lucis’, _his_. His, Ardyn’s, Ardyn’s Marshal, Cor was his and it had slipped out along with his title, all Majesty and _his_.

“Cor,” he whispered, grabbing for the other man with his free hand, fingers tucking in over the nape of his neck, dragging him closer, biting his half-scabbed lower lip back to bleeding—

The door to the bathroom squeaked open. Ardyn’s breath got caught in his chest as Cor dragged his scarf tight, cutting off his air, but didn’t stop fucking up into him. Not that Ardyn cared, because when had he ever given half a shit about privacy or personal space, but he’d been in the middle of having a _moment_ with the concept that Cor when this-far-gone still thought of himself as _Ardyn’s_ and the heady, horrible, _beautiful_ ownership in that moment.

Frustrated as hell, Ardyn breathed out punched out little moans, pulling his scarf away from his throat, looking over his shoulder at the stall next to them like he could glare the occupant out of it.

\--

Ardyn was tensing beneath him and around him, and when he whispered his name and reached for him, bit at his lips, Cor had a moment when he really thought he was going to come just from the way Ardyn reacted to that.

He swallowed his moan, and he was dazed and aroused and yet somehow completely aware, and aware of the fact that it was likely not the title that had driven Ardyn to react so much, but the fact that Cor, without even thinking about it, had called himself _his_ Marshal, in that heated moment. And he wouldn’t have taken it back for the world. He meant those words, more than anything. He _was_ Ardyn’s, in a way he’d never really been anyone else’s before. His in more ways than one.

After that, he wasn’t exactly keen on patiently waiting for the other man in the bathroom to finish his business, though he doubted it would take long. In the meantime, he fucked Ardyn in short, shallow thrusts against the wall, swallowing down the frustrated growl he wanted to let out when Ardyn pulled the scarf away from his throat to moan. He fought back, trying to tighten it again, to nudge his hand away, and nipped at the edge of his ear, tucked his nose beneath his red curls and whispered as softly as he could, so softly the man in the other stall, with all his shuffling and sniffling couldn’t possibly hear. “Quiet, Your Majesty.” He started fucking up into him a little harder, and nipped at the soft spot below his ear, busying himself with worrying another mark into his skin.

\--

Cor had found a pace into him that meant he didn’t have to pull out, so there was none of the friction that Ardyn liked best, the not-slick-enough abrasion on his rim as Cor dried out the spit as lube fucking from root to tip. There was something brilliant in this too, though, little shallow pressure points against his prostate, and he tipped his head back onto Cor’s shoulder, smiled with all his teeth, and hitched his ass up to push further down onto the other man’s cock.

Cor’s lips were warm on the side of his neck just under his ear, but Ardyn had his hand inside his scarf now. As much as he wanted Cor to choke him until his head throbbed with blood, he wanted the man in the other stall gone _more_. So Ardyn just opened his mouth and moaned, quietly, unnecessarily, relaxed back against Cor’s shoulder as the other man fucked into him, breathy puffs of air near-soundless but still definitely loud enough to be heard if you weren’t single-mindedly focused on what you were doing. Their unwanted visitor apparently didn’t hear, though, and Ardyn scowled, his face screwed up unhappily, and even though Cor wasn’t even doing anything at that particular point, raised his voice to his usual indoor volume and moaned.

The other stall went very quiet. For about thirty seconds. And then the other person just kept damn going.

Ardyn banged his forehead against the stall wall, clenching his fingers white-knuckled where he had them over the top edge in frustration.

\--

Ardyn leaned his head back against his shoulder, grinned and shoved down on his cock and Cor let out a very quiet grunt into his hair and rocked harder up into him. Ardyn had his hand in his scarf and Cor couldn’t do all that much about it. The other man seemed intent on scaring their unwelcome guest away, which was rude, and yet, Cor was just as frustrated as Ardyn was.

Even when he moaned, though, the man in the other stall didn’t seem to hear or care. And then Ardyn moaned again, louder, and the shuffling stopped. Cor let go of Ardyn’s scarves, since that wasn’t getting him anywhere, and tangled his fingers back into his hair instead, getting them deep in those thick red curls, and continued his very focused business of biting marks along the entire side of his neck. Ardyn seemed like he was going to lose his mind in frustration and Cor was getting to that point himself. The man in the other stall was probably taking a shit, because it was taking forever, and he was just about at the end of whatever patience he had left.

He settled deep inside Ardyn for a moment and then pulled out, just half way, and shoved himself back in despite how dry he was, how hard it was to force it, and then pulled out again and started fucking him like that instead, and the slap of skin seemed particularly loud in the otherwise quiet bathroom.

\--

Cor finally seemed to catch onto Ardyn’s idea, slow on the uptake as always. When he started fucking Ardyn just-shy of too dry, Ardyn just turned up the volume, moaning with every exhale, letting Cor punch them out of him. It wasn’t _loud_ moans, just little gasps, but it got the point across. When the person in the stall next to them flushed but didn’t leave, though, he grit his teeth and kept a tight hold on the shreds of his temper.

Read: Ardyn spread his legs, bent his knees to get his balance, and then totally unabashedly at the top of his lungs moaned, “Yes!”

\--

Ardyn was going to scare that poor man out of his skin, and as Cor started fucking him and Ardyn kept moaning in tiny, gasping breaths, making way more of a show out of it than he had to, Cor found it more amusing than he probably should have. He could just imagine the look on that man’s face when he realized there were two men in the stall next to him, and they were fucking. He grinned against the side of Ardyn’s neck, fucked him harder, and didn’t try to mask his gasps for breath as he fucked up into him.

And then Ardyn, as over-dramatic as ever, practically screamed _yes_ and Cor really thought he was going to lose it. He half-laughed into the back of his neck but it came out more like a breathy groan than anything, and he picked up the pace and echoed the sentiment, low and grating. “Oh, _yes_!”

\--

Cor was laughing into his skin and Ardyn was grinning. He wasn’t even that far gone any more, but they were still going, if just for the drama more than for anything else. Even Cor was getting into it, moaning, and Ardyn had to bite down hard on the back of his wrist to keep from bursting into laughter. He could _feel_ the awkward embarrassment from the other man in the other stall, but he still wasn’t running.

They needed to do something about that.

“How much,” Ardyn whispered as low as he could, covering it up by rattling the stall wall, “Do you care about your public reputation?”

\--

He almost burst into laughter again from the sheer fact that the man in the other stall had gone dead quiet. Still, he kept fucking him, even if he wasn’t nearly as into it as he was before. It was all more performative at this point, and he was enjoying it more than he thought he would. Ardyn kept trembling beneath him like he was going to burst out into fits of laughter, and Cor kissed his neck more affectionately, grinning.

“Not all that much,” he admitted under his breath, letting go of his wrist and his hair to grab his hips and pull him closer. He didn’t mind if there ended up being rumors on the street of him fucking someone in a public restroom. He’d always had a reputation of someone who was untouchable, but he’d never really cared about it either way.

\--

Cor pulled him closer by his hips, and Ardyn kept shaking the stall wall to make up for the fact that they weren’t really fucking any more. He was starting to get soft, the heat of the moment totally gone. At this point, it was more for the drama than anything else. “Good,” Ardyn whispered back, and had to force himself from keeping the laugh out of his voice as he took in a long breath and then moaned at the top of his lungs,

“Oh _Marshal_ just like _that!_ ”

He’d never heard someone get their pants back on as fast as their unwanted company did, the flush of the toilet loud before the man skittered out of the room without even washing his hands. As soon as he was gone Ardyn broke out into a helpless fit of giggles, his forehead pressed against the wall. Humans were so ridiculous.

\--

Ardyn shaking the wall to make it seem like they were still fucking made him want to laugh even more, and he muffled it into the other man’s skin. And then Ardyn moaned _that_ and he nearly lost it as he heard the man in the other stall flush, pull up his pants, and book it right out of the bathroom.

Only then did he let it go, wheezing helplessly into Ardyn’s hair, smiling more than he had in ages. He wasn’t even really in the mood to fuck him anymore, the moment was totally lost, but he was laughing so much he didn’t care, and he wrapped his arms around the other man, pushed his hands up under his shirt to feel how warm he was and held him close.

“You’re brilliant,” he got out at last, grinning into his shoulder. “I wish I’d seen the look on his face when you said that.” That was probably going to get around but oh, it was worth it. He missed Ardyn so much when he was away. “Let’s… finish this later.” He didn’t even think he could get off anymore if he tried.

\--

Cor broke down into quiet, wheezing laughter, and Ardyn realised with a pain in his chest that he’d never heard the other man laugh so openly and without reservation before. It wasn’t an attractive laugh by any means (which was no censure coming from the man who ugly-giggled) but there was something about the low, ragged wheezing breaths that was hopelessly endearing, that left Ardyn smiling like a love-struck fool.

Which he was, he supposed.

“There’s no need for flattery, Marshal,” Ardyn murmured, leaning back into his hold, the warm hands splayed on his stomach. “I’m quite aware of my brilliance without you encouraging me to exert my mind in inappropriate ways.” They would definitely have to finish this later, because his ass hurt and he was soft. “Get off,” he added, too affectionate by far, and pushed Cor away before he awkwardly bent over, ass ramming up against the other man as he snagged his dropped trousers. “I hate denim; I don’t understand how you people can wear it.”

\--

Cor smiled, laughter fading away, but he still felt warm and amused and fulfilled despite not having gotten off. He would later, when they were alone. “I know you are,” he muttered, kissed his neck again, over one of the bruising marks he’d left there, and eased his cock out of him, hissing quietly. They would have made a terrible mess if they’d both finished, anyway.

“Denim is practical,” he said, tucking his dick back into his pants and straightening his clothes, running one hand back through his hair. After this, though, there was no way he could sit and have a conversation with Monica and Iris. He’d just have to apologize because all he wanted was to go home with Ardyn.

\--

Ardyn struggled to get himself dressed again. He was having a hard time with the jeans, as he had had before when he put them on. His hips weren’t flexible enough for being able to easily settle into it. Getting put away, he gathered his hair back up and tied it out of the way again before he artfully fixed his scarf to draw attention to, rather than cover, the extremely obvious Cor-shaped bite marks on his neck, and pulled lip gloss out of his pocket, fixed his lips so they shone. That was not a part of the illusion; details like that would have been too hard. That he had to do the old fashioned way.

“Well, perhaps if you ride a motorcycle everywhere. Back in my day, we just rode chocobos, and I can promise you that this isn’t practical for _that_.” He was still a little hoarse with arousal, but fortunately Cor hadn’t done that much of a number on his throat. Yet.

“Shall we go make up some unfortunate excuse to Monica and Iris so you can take me home and fuck me on the kitchen counter?”

\--

Ardyn fixed himself as well, tied his hair up, and rearranged his scarves so they showed off all the bite marks Cor had left on his neck. He raised his eyebrows, flushed a little. Knowing that he was biting him to bruising and stepping back and looking at the marks he’d left all over Ardyn’s skin were two completely different things. Everyone was going to see those. They were _extremely_ obvious. But he… kind of liked that, at the same time, and he liked that Ardyn clearly wanted to show them off.

“Well,” he said, and frowned. “I’m not good with animals… chocobos… don’t like me.” He never rode chocobos, ever since he was bitten and thrown off by them repeatedly in his younger years. The bird didn’t matter, they _always_ hated him and he had no idea why. So, motorcycle. Motorcycles didn’t have a personality. They couldn’t be crafty and dangerous.

He sighed and unlocked the stall door. “That sounds like a great idea.” Mostly, he wanted to get confronting Monica and Iris over with as quickly as possible, so they could get home where it was quiet and private.

\--

Following Cor back out of the restroom, Ardyn tagged along as his bubbling arm candy. Monica’s eyes were as big as her head as Cor made excuses, and Iris was flushed, but it was worth the embarrassment to be able to shove Cor back against the inside of his apartment door the moment that they got home, digging fingers into the back of his neck as he took back his own appearance, his hair almost too-short for the tie, but still holding up nonetheless as he climbed into the other man’s arms, thighs locked around his waist, letting Cor support his bad leg.

“Oh,” Ardyn whispered, laughing, glasses rammed up his nose, “My Marshal, _just_ like that.”

\--

Trying to talk his way around Monica was… difficult. It was always difficult but in this case, it was too obvious exactly what they’d been in the bathroom doing for so long, and poor Iris was bright red as he hastily told them he was taking his boyfriend home now. He would talk to Monica again, later, when he wasn’t being thoroughly, wonderfully distracted by Ardyn.

Getting back to his apartment was a relief, and as Ardyn shoved him back against the door he felt the breath knocked out of him, smiling as he watched him shift back to his usual self. Immediately, he grabbed for his hair again, tangling his fingers in on both sides of his head, dragging him closer. Ardyn was already climbing him like a tree, thighs around his waist, and Cor spun them around, pressing Ardyn back against the door and kissed him, hard, biting at his lip and echoing his quiet laugh. “Gods,” he breathed, “do I love you.”


	12. so you can get, get addicted to this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He texted Ardyn immediately that evening.
> 
> > Iris found something you might find interesting.
> 
> > Some old inscription in a ruin that has something to do with you.
> 
> > But none of us can read it. We need someone who can read ancient texts. Interested?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [fall out boy's "pavlove"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRQRGnvdvWY)

Though Ardyn, of course, didn’t stay for long. He never did. Another day, and Cor just let himself enjoy his company, enjoy the sex, before he inevitably disappeared again. At least this time, he wasn’t gone for quite as long. He turned up again in the middle of the week, just after midnight when Cor was just managing to fall asleep. Right there on the spot Ardyn rode his dick until he was losing his mind, until they both were, and was gone again when Cor woke up in the morning.

A few days after his midnight visitor, Iris came to Cor with a very interesting dilemma. She’d been out on a hunt, tracking a large daemon that dwelled near some of the caves a few miles outside of Lestallum, when she stumbled upon a small ruin and there, an ancient inscription on one of the walls that she thought said something more about Ardyn, and the old legends, but it was all in a language too old for her to read. She couldn’t take a picture because it was too dark to make out, so she’d wanted him to go out and look at it with her, and maybe bring someone from the city who might be able to read it. She was thinking of looking for a scholar of some kind, if any still existed, but Cor already knew exactly who to ask and told her to wait a little while for him to get in touch.

He texted Ardyn immediately that evening.

> Iris found something you might find interesting.

> Some old inscription in a ruin that has something to do with you.

> But none of us can read it. We need someone who can read ancient texts. Interested?

\--  


Ardyn had his hands full, literally, when Cor had first texted him. So he had ignored it. Millennia of not owning a phone made him abysmal at responding via it, which had been a problem when he was Chancellor, but even now it was still an issue as he forgot to respond for a solid half a week, focused on other work. Finally, though, he read the texts, and smiled down at the phone.  


> You don’t need an excuse to ask to see me ;-)

> What do they call it,

> A booty call ?

> If you need a reminder of my imminent return to dust when the sun rises in order to fuck me, though, I’m sure I can provide .

\--

Cor didn’t exactly expect Ardyn to respond right away. He was content to give it time. He had no idea where the man disappeared off to when he did, but he was clearly distracted by something, and Cor left him to it. When Iris asked, he told her the truth, that the one he thought could read the text was ‘Altum’ and that he was busy with something else at the moment, so Cor was waiting for him to respond.

It took a few days, but eventually the other man got back to him, when Cor was relaxing at home, and he snorted at the messages, smiled a little, and responded right away.

> Of course I want to see you.

And then,

> I was serious about the inscriptions. Iris is getting on my case about it. Will you come with us?

He paused again, then added, assuming the answer would be a dramatically reluctant ‘yes’,

> And you’d better stick around long enough for me to fuck you.

\--

Ardyn considered texting back, but seeing as he’d remembered to reply while sprawled in the throne in Insomnia, trying to get a good judge of where to best hang the bodies, he wasn’t up to much of anything anyway. So, rather than continue a useless technology chain, he just yawned and slid sideways to land on Cor’s couch, throwing his boots onto the other man’s lap and dramatically holding his phone up. “‘I was serious about the inscriptions,’” he read aloud. “Well, I never assumed you _weren’t_ , but it really is a _very_ roundabout way of trying to get my attention. You could always just call me and jack off down the phone line, that would probably work better than waiting for an excuse to have me come be your own personal walking, talking encyclopedia.”

\--

He was _expecting_ a text back. Instead, Ardyn just _appeared_ , very suddenly, and Cor half-shouted in surprise and practically jumped out of his skin, fumbling his phone and dropping it into his lap. “ _Ardyn_ ,” he got out, exasperated as he calmed and leaned back. The other man had already kicked his feet up into his lap and settled in. “Some warning, next time?” He frowned.

Ardyn was reading his own texts back at him and giving commentary, and Cor sighed, because he felt so long-suffering but it was just like him, endearing in a way, and it was good to hear his voice again. “I—,” he started, then furrowed his brow, because he really didn’t know what to say to that. “Well, you were busy with something.” And he wasn’t even going to bother asking what the point of jacking off over the phone would be when Ardyn could just appear in his apartment at will. Now, jacking off over the phone with him and waiting to see how long it too him to show up? _That_ would be a more interesting experiment, if he ever felt the urge.

“If I called you whenever I wanted to see you, I’d be calling you every day.”

\--

Ardyn waved a hand. He’d never given anyone any warning for anything in his entire life. “If you can start properly predicting me, we really need to worry about the slippage of the fragile threads that remain of my sanity.” As if the fact that he’d now spent the better part of a year hanging corpses off of the ceiling of the throne room in Insomnia wasn’t a telltale sign of that. Regis had been easy, Luna comparatively so, but now he was dealing with the far more difficult problems of his remaining two.

He would have used Ravus, but the poor boy was beyond anything Ardyn could have done to repair him.

Ardyn lowered his phone, pillowed his chin on his fist, and fluttered his lashes at Cor. “That’s sweet,” he cooed, and leaned forward to tweak Cor’s nose. “You should. Your bed is far more comfortable than the throne.” Pulling off his scarves and draping them over the back of the couch, Ardyn stretched and sprawled a little more over the cushions and Cor’s lap. “If you must drag me along with you to investigate this whatever-it-is, I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

\--

Ardyn really was endlessly unpredictable. He still wasn’t really used to it, but on the other hand, Ardyn was right, and he sighed at him. And Gods help him, he couldn’t help but blush when Ardyn fluttered his lashes like that and called him sweet and told him he should. “Then I will,” he said, resting one hand on his thigh as Ardyn got more comfortable.

He wasn’t exactly expecting Ardyn to want to go right that second, though, and just stared at him, blinked, and picked up his phone again. It was still just after lunch, he’d be awake for a long while yet. They had plenty of time to get there and back. “Let me text Iris.”

He sent her a few messages, explained that he was with Altum at the moment, that the other man wanted to go and had the time, and she agreed to it, said she didn’t have anything better to do, anyway. She would meet them at edge of the city, on the road leading south, and they could take her car.

“All right,” he said, patting Ardyn’s leg. “Iris say’s she’ll meet us at the edge of the city in twenty minutes.” He looked at him and frowned a little. “You’ll.. Have to go as Altum, of course.”

\--

Ardyn lazily played with a loose thread on Cor’s couch as he checked with Iris, and then sighed as he got told he’d have to be Altum again. “Oh yes,” he murmured, sprawling further, “I really thought introducing the Accursed to a teenager to do her a favour would be a great way to spend the afternoon.” He examined his nails as he painted the second face back on, his hair tumbling loose around his shoulders before he fished in one of the pockets of his coat and slid the glasses back on.

He did actually _need_ them, he just hardly ever _used_ them.

“I’ll have to borrow some clothes, I know it will be a _great_ sacrifice for you.”

\--  


Ardyn sprawled more and Cor sighed at him again. “She’s almost twenty,” he said. Hardly a teenager anymore, though still young. He watched as the other man put the face of Altum back on, his features shifting, his hair lengthening. He did look good with the glasses too, even if they were also a little ridiculous with their maroon frames. He liked him as his usual self the best, but the Altum look was almost as nice. It was made significantly better by the fact that Ardyn would be wearing _his_ clothes.  


“You can take whatever clothes you like.” He reached for his hand, drew it to his lips and kissed the backs of his fingers. “And thank you. When we’re done, I’ll fuck you however you want.”

\--

Cor kissed his fingertips as Ardyn pushed up off of the couch, and he returned the gesture by cupping the other man’s chin for a moment. “Perhaps not so much you fucking me,” he murmured, watching Cor’s bright eyes. “But the other way around.” That said, Ardyn shrugged his coat off and went off to dig through the man’s closet, dumping his clothes carelessly on Cor’s floor. He mostly only had uniform pieces in his closet, but Ardyn was able to dig up some absolutely ancient Lestallum meteor t-shirt and a pair of slacks. He’d left his shoes here the last time, and toed them back on before he stole Cor’s beret, tucked the better part of his curls up into it.

Being completely casual like he hadn’t just told Cor what he wanted to do, Ardyn shoved around until he found the man’s old uniform jacket and shrugged into it. “How do I look?” He asked, turning around to cock an eyebrow at Cor, leaning on his closet door. “I’ll admit that the t-shirt isn’t really my _style_ , but you don’t own any cardigans.”

\--

Ardyn cupped his chin, watched his eyes, and Cor felt his mouth go dry all at once. Ardyn had never suggested that before, and he’d never considered it, but suddenly… he felt far too warm even for the few layers he was wearing. He didn’t even know what to say to that, he just watched Ardyn as he nonchalantly shrugged off his coat and started digging through Cor’s closet, dumping clothes on the floor. He didn’t really care, he would pick them up later.

Eventually, Ardyn came up with a few pieces that he seemed moderately content with, including Cor’s beret, which he shoved his hair up into.

Knowing what Ardyn wanted to do to him, Cor just stared at him in all his old clothes, including his old uniform jacket, with his cheeks flushed and his lips parted. “Good,” he said at last. “You look fine.” He stood and rolled his shoulders and went to get his coat, throwing it on and buttoning it up. “Let’s go.”

\--

Cor was staring at him with his mouth partway open and his cheeks bright red. Ardyn smirked at him. “Someone looks eager,” he said, like he hadn’t just essentially told Cor that he’d be pinning him down into the sheets and fucking him until he cried later. But if Cor could keep his cool, well, that was good enough.

He followed Cor out of the apartment, fixing his hair to be as artfully crammed into the beret as possible, and when they met Iris, winked at her. “I hear you need someone with my particular set of skills.”

\--

Cor took a deep breath and did not respond to Ardyn’s comment. Eager, maybe, if a little unsure. It had been a long time since anyone had fucked _him_ , but with Ardyn, now that the idea had been put in his head, he did want it, very much so.

First, though, they had other matters to deal with, and he had to focus. He locked his apartment, and lead the way to the outskirts of the city, offering his arm to Ardyn as they neared. Iris had her car idling there. It was old and small, one that she’d found in bad shape, it’s owners long dead. She’d had it towed back to Hammerhead and Cindy had fixed it up for her so it ran reasonably well, well enough to get around.

Ardyn of course, winked at her, as she walked up to meet them. He hoped she wasn’t thinking too much about the last time she saw ‘Altum’ when he and Cor had rushed back to their apartment. She showed no sign of it though, smiling at him. “It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “I didn’t know you could read ancient languages. That’s a big help to us.” She turned to Cor. “You should have introduced him sooner.”

Cor shrugged and got in the front passenger seat so Ardyn could sprawl across the back seats as he liked. Iris drove, heading out into the dark beyond the city with her lights turned up bright, towards the small network of caves she’d found.

\--

Ardyn laughed at Iris’ comment. “Oh, I have lots of useless skills. A long and misspent youth, you see. Never know when one of them might come in handy. I’m even capable of driving a car.” He got shoved in the backseat of the car and sprawled out comfortably there, listening to Iris and Cor talk and only occasionally making the rare comment when he felt like it.

The caves that Iris drove them to were ones that Ardyn recognised all too well. He’d gotten hopelessly lost in them about five hundred years before, and spend nearly a decade stumbling around when the ground had crumbled under his feet before he’d managed to find the surface again. He climbed out of the car when they arrived, and put his coat light on to illuminate the ground, one hand cocked on his hip.

“I had really hoped never to see this place again.” He hadn’t missed it since his last visit, that was for sure. “It’s an old Solheim religious cult’s hiding hole, if I’m remembering correctly. Considered to be the birthplace of Titan.”

\--

“Neat,” Iris said, not entirely sure how to react to him still but seeming to enjoy his company nonetheless. Cor just sighed, and talked a little to Iris, mostly about her ongoing training and the progress of their other students, since Iris had some of her own now, and where the most dangerous recent daemon sightings were.

When they arrived, she pulled the car over and the three of them got out. “Lights on,” Cor said out of habit, even as Ardyn turned on his and he and Iris did the same.

“You know this place?” Iris asked, gasping a little when Ardyn started commenting on it. “Wow,” she added after a moment. “You sure know a lot. Where did you go to school?”

Cor just snorted again because, predictably, he was showing off. “Stay close, Altum. If any daemons show up, Iris and I will protect you.” And he gave him a pointed look at that, though he didn’t think Ardyn would try anything that would give him away too much.

“It’s not far,” Iris said, leading the way forward, up a small rocky hillside and into a long tunnel. “I was just scouting around these caves when I found it.”

\--

“Oh,” Ardyn waved a hand. “Niflheim Imperial, I did a few years at Ca’ Foscari and King’s College Insomnia.” And many, many others. But those were the ones that were still extant, before the Starscourge. “And plenty of studying on my own. Never hurts to be informed, you know. You only have so much time in life; it pays to make the most of it.” He didn’t need to be told to keep close, and smiled at Cor, taking advantage of holding his hand as they walked, following the young woman underground.

“Were you able to tell what period it was? Was it Solheim, Old Lucis, Middle Lucis?”

\--

“Niflheim?” Iris gasped, turning to look at him as he went on. “Wow.” She paused for a moment to consider that. “Marshal, why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend was such a worldly scholar?”

Cor just grunted at her, taking Ardyn’s hand as he moved in close. He wasn’t going to complain about that. He just wished he could point out that Ardyn was two-thousand years old, of course he knew a lot. Given, he’d never asked, and it was interesting to hear, but. He also knew that Ardyn was still showing off and probably would be the entire time. And this was what he got for dragging him along.

“Hmm.” Iris frowned and hummed thoughtfully as they continued. “It was pretty old. Old Lucis or… Solheim. To be honest, I couldn’t tell. But, since you said something about this place being used by a Solheim religious cult, that’s probably most likely.”  


\--

Ardyn shrugged, tapped the beret. “I’d not make a very good Lucian; Niflheim wasn’t the worst place to live.” He didn’t say that he didn’t remember an inscription from the last time he had been there, but. Well. He didn’t. He could have overlooked it; it had been dark. They hadn’t had lights back then. Iris was leading them carefully through the cave, and nothing untoward popped up, no doubt scared away by their lights or kept at bay by Ardyn himself. Finally, they came out into a larger room, with an antechamber off of it, and Ardyn went in without being told to, hand skimming the wall as he ducked under an outcropping to look up at the wall of the smaller dead-end.

And then, he burst out laughing.  


\--  


Iris looked at Cor and Cor shrugged. He knew exactly what her opinions on Niflheim were, and he shared them, and of course, knew who Ardyn really was but. Aside from the Army, it was probably true that it wasn’t a terrible place to live back before everything turned bad and then worse.

Thankfully their trek through the cave was otherwise uneventful, and eventually they came out into a larger chamber. Ardyn went right on ahead and Cor followed him with Iris in tow, slipping into the antechamber.

“What?” Iris asked when the other man started to laugh.

Cor shook his head. He guessed this was the place she’d meant to lead them too, because he could see the inscription on the wall Ardyn was looking at. He couldn’t read it any more than she could. “I have no idea.”

\--

Ardyn doubled over for a moment, giggling, and then straightened. “Well, this is an interesting one.” He walked over to the wall, and pointed to the top right corner of the inscription. “This is someone’s name, looks like just some graffiti. There’s a few others here, around it. They’re all Solheim; you can tell by the distinctive way that they write their letter R. It’s not similar to modern Lucian at all This is probably what you mistook for _Ardyn_ ; it’s a very similar name.

“This, though,” he continued, moving over to the actual bulk of the inscription, “Is fairly recent. I’d say within the last two hundred years. The tenses are off everywhere, and they’ve confused their cursive B for what is an A in New Lucian. The translation is rough, but the intention that they seem to have been going for is a prophecy. Essentially it’s….Titan calls/the King falls/Empire withdraws. It’s very similar to that nursery rhyme, about Titan summoning the King of Light, but meant to be to give hope during some of the early Niflheim invasions, no doubt.” He paused, one hand cocked on his hip, and gestured to the bottom of the inscription. “This is also a little older.” It was, in fact, in his own handwriting. “It’s written in proper Solheim script, but judging on the aging of the letters, probably Middle Lucian. It just tells Titan to go fuck himself on the Meteor.”

\--

Ardyn pointed at the inscription, explained what it meant as he motioned to various parts of it and talked about the differences in the writing. He was vaguely impressed but given Ardyn’s extensive history, not surprised in the least. Iris, on the other hand, looked like her eyes were about to pop out of her skull.

“Wow,” she said when he was done. “You really _do_ know a lot.” She moved over towards the inscription, touching various parts of it that Ardyn had pointed out while Cor hung back to keep watch, just in case. “That’s really neat. But…” She sighed, slumping. “Not very useful. Darn it.” She was clearly hoping she’d found something informative, something to give them more insight than they already had, even if at this point it was mostly a waiting game for all of them.

Cor squinted at Ardyn, imagining he must find that insult about Titan amusing. He was sure he’d hear later about the man’s previous trips to the caves, which he’d mentioned off-hand to him and Iris. “Well,” he said, “do you two want to look around more, or are we finished here? I’d like to get back to Lestallum before it gets too late and we start to get tired.”

\--

Iris looked tremendously impressed. Cor looked—like Cor usually looked about Ardyn. Tired, bemused, and a little affectionate. Ardyn patted her gently on the back. “My apologies. These sort of things rarely go unnoticed for thousands of years. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“I’ve no lost love with this place, but, if Lady Iris has something else she’d like me to look at as long as I’m here, I would be happy offer my services. After all,” Ardyn laughed, “I am rather a _finite_ resource, these days.”

\--

“Yeah,” Iris sighed. “I guess that’s true. I just feel bad for dragging you all the way out here.”

“Well,” Cor said, “It was worth looking into.” He glanced at Ardyn, frowning at that comment about him being finite. Honestly. “It’s your call, Iris.”

She tapped her cheek, thinking. “I didn’t see anything else too interesting when I was out here before. Just the ruins. There are probably some other inscriptions if we took the time to look around but… I think the Marshal is right, we should head back before it gets too late. I’d rather not have to camp. If we find anything on the way out, we can have a look.”

“Good idea,” Cor said, and let Iris take the lead, motioning Ardyn on ahead of him while he took up the rear and they headed back the way they came.  


\--

Ardyn had no preference one way or another to staying, but when the two mortals decided they were done, he let them chivvy him out of the cave, glad that he wasn’t in the lead since he didn’t trust the ground at all after the time he’d fallen through it so many years ago. When they got back out of the cave, he leaned comfortably against Iris’s car as she got in to start it.

Only for the engine to make a worrying noise in response.

“I might not be an expert,” Ardyn mused, not entirely truthfully, “But that doesn’t sound good.”

\--

Tracing their footsteps back, it wasn’t long before they were out of the cave and out in the cool night air again. They picked their way back down over the rocks and, finally, to Iris’s car. Ardyn leaned against it while she went around and got in the driver’s seat and Cor slid in the passenger side. He was about to tell Ardyn to get in too when Iris put her key in the ignition and, instead of properly starting the car just made a very worrying whirring sound. Cor looked at Iris, and she tried again. It clunked and spat fumes.

“Oh boy,” Cor muttered under his breath, glancing over at Ardyn and then back at Iris. “Has it been acting up lately?”

“No!” she said, shocked. “It was _totally_ fine. I have no idea why it’s doing this suddenly.”

Cor sighed, got out of the car and had Iris pop the hood, pulled it open to take a look and swatted at the fumes spilling out. “Any chance one of your _numerous_ degrees is in mechanics, Altum?” he asked, peering in. He couldn’t tell a damn thing, he didn’t even know what was what. Regis always had Cid and, later, other professionals service the Regalia. He had no idea how to fix a car. “Otherwise we’ll have to get it towed, and it’s going to take them a _long_ time to get all the way out here.”

\--

Ardyn cocked an eyebrow as the two of them fumbled about under the hood. “Yes, actually. Mechanical engineering.” He’d, after all, designed the system that made the MTs work. With Verstael’s help.

Standing up straight, he came over and pushed his way between Cor and Iris, took off his coat light and started shining it into the engine. “This car is a piece of shit,” he told Iris, not unkindly. “It won’t need to be towed,” he continued, leaning forward, glad that he’d worn his own gloves because it would keep his hands from getting too dirty except at the fingertips as he started to look for what was misfiring. “The battery just seems to be dead. It probably would be fine with just a jump. But that does, yes, necessitate someone getting all the way out here.”

\--

When Ardyn said he _did_ have a degree in mechanics, Cor gave him a look. “You know, I was kind of joking, right?” he said, furrowing his brow in disbelief. “You’d _just said_ you weren’t an expert.” But Ardyn seemed to be completely serious, and he butted his way in, shining his light to look at the engine. Cor stepped aside to give him room and watched him, and he _did_ seem to know what he was doing. Incredible.

“I know it’s a piece of shit,” Iris half snapped, folding her arms, because she was getting tired and impatient, but she and Cor both perked up a little when Ardyn said it wouldn’t need to be towed, and deflated again when he said it was the battery. “Let me call Monica,” Iris said, because Monica as always was the go-to mom when things went bad.

Cor just stood by Ardyn and stared at the engine and then at him while he waited, listening to Iris explain the situation, and a lot of back and forth as they discussed what to do.

“I didn’t know you could do… so much,” Cor admitted under his breath. Although, he should have expected it, given how long he’d been alive.

At last, after Iris repeatedly assured Monica that they would be fine for one night and had the situation under control, she hung up. “Monica can’t come until the morning,” she said. “Dustin is out of town and she’s tied up with Talcott and Myra for the night. I told her we can camp, there’s a site near here. Assuming that’s okay with you two at least, but we don’t have much choice.”

\--

Ardyn snorted. “I’m not an expert _mechanic_ I’m a _mechanical engineer,_ Marshal. Very different applications of a similar skillset. But, given the case of finding out why an old car refuses to start, one is just about as good as the other. I did have to do all my own upkeep on my own automobile, after all.” His personal modifications weren’t really standard by any means. But he did sigh and smile, indulgent, when the other man admitted how surprised he was. “I said a long and misspent youth, Cor. The better question isn’t what I know how to do, it’s what I _don’t_ know how to do.” On that list were: fly a kite, bake and frost a proper cake, and thread a needle. He had never been able to manage the last one.

There were other things as well, but those were the ones that really bothered him.

Leaning against the hood with his head on Cor’s shoulder while they waited, Ardyn sighed at the news about the wait. Well. He could probably fuck Cor out here just as well as back at his apartment. If he had lube. Something told him Cor would not be nearly as into it dry as Ardyn was. “Is it close enough for us to push the car to?” Ardyn asked. “Because you could sleep on the back seat and we can deal with sleeping on the ground.” He was self-sacrificing as ever, even in his old age. Ardyn wouldn’t force Iris to sleep out in the cold, even if the car might have been better for his hip.

\--

Cor just sighed at him. It made sense that he knew, but still. There was so much to Ardyn, in their short time together he felt that he’d only barely scratched the surface of who he was, but at the same time, he wanted to feel like he knew him better, at least, than anyone currently living, maybe better than anyone else ever had.

He smiled a little as Ardyn leaned his head on his shoulder, closed his eyes and rested one hand on the small of his back, gently kissed the top of his head. “You know I don’t mind camping, Iris,” he said, and Ardyn’s suggestion was a good one. He nodded. “It’s close. We’ve camped there before.”

“Yeah,” Iris said. “Plenty of times. You can almost see it from here.” She pointed to where you could just barely make out the blue glow of the runestones just off the side of the road. She frowned. “Does that mean all three of us have to push?”

Cor eyed her. “Yes,” he said. “I’m not pushing this thing myself. But I will push from the back, and you two can get the sides.”

\--

Ardyn huffed. “No, no, I’ll take the back.” After all, he was the one with inhuman, supernatural strength. And magic. He looked haughtily at Cor as if daring the man to question him, and once he had glared the Marshal into submission, went to the back to push. Or. Well. Not so much push as drastically shorten the distance so that they only took about a third of the time it would have taken otherwise, better to not strain them, and then dramatically collapsed against the back of the car, fanning himself with the end of his scarf as he regretted using that much magic while glamoured. “My, but that’s tiring!”

\--

Cor frowned at him, but Ardyn was staring him down so determinedly he gave in eventually and sighed. “Fine. You can have the back.” He waved his hand dismissively, certain Ardyn intended to use some kind of magic or… something. It didn’t matter, he’d let him do what he wanted if he was going to be stubborn about it.

He and Iris took the sides, and like that, they made surprisingly good time. _Surprisingly good time_. Iris just wiped the sweat off her brow and said, “Wow, that was a little closer than I thought,” and didn’t comment further. Cor stared pointedly at Ardyn, even if it had been harmless enough. And, getting there faster wasn’t exactly a bad thing.

He circled around to the back of the car, clapped one hand affectionately to the other man’s shoulder, and popped the trunk. “Maybe you should work out more,” he said off-hand. Iris’s car was, thankfully, always packed for a camping trip just in case, and he pulled out two sleeping bags, they didn’t need much of the rest of it, aside from some blankets for Iris. “You’ll be all right sleeping in the car, Iris?” He doubted she’d have any trouble, it was too close to the camping ground for any daemons to be lurking around, even in these troubling times.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, taking the blankets. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.”

\--

Cor glared at him, and Ardyn, despite being out of breath and holding onto his second face by the skin of his teeth, threw his head back and laughed. “No need to look so serious, Marshal.” He winked. “At my age, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Even ones just about working out.”

He had never really enjoyed camping, even as a young man, but he was pushing his luck already. He could feel the bitter darkness at the fringes of his mind, haunting him that if he stopped paying attention, he would find himself overwhelmed.

Going over to sprawl on the stone of the campground, Ardyn traced the glowing runes underneath him with a finger, felt the light wash over him. It made him wince, burning at his soul, but it wasn’t bad enough that he was spitting light or Scourge. If anything, it was an almost-pleasant tingle. He, at least for this one night, wouldn’t have to worry about too much. He’d spelled all these sites himself in ages long past; they would hold the daemons at bay as well as he himself could. Better.

\--

Cor just snorted at him. He hadn’t really meant it, anyway. He knew, at least vaguely, the sheer amount of power Ardyn possessed. He would never forget what had happened in Insomnia.

He also remembered that Ardyn didn’t like camping. Too bad, they were stuck with it, and Ardyn was the one who had suggested Iris sleep in the car while the two of them slept on the ground, anyway. He was certain he knew why, too.

Ardyn sprawled on the stone, traced the runes there, as Cor laid out their sleeping bags side by side. Inevitably, they’d end up crammed into one, but he’d brought two for the sake of it. They didn’t need to set up a tent, the weather was clear, with just a little bit of wind and not a cloud in the star-filled sky.  


He sat down on the makeshift bed, unbuttoning his coat. “Come over here,” he said, watching the other man. They were far enough away from Iris, at least, that they’d have a little privacy if they weren’t too loud, and Ardyn would probably be mostly safe switching back to his usual appearance, if he wanted to. He doubted Iris would bother them at all.  


\--

Ardyn remained where he was, sprawled on the runes and enjoying the way that they heated and cut through the meat of him, burned away the darkness in little fits and starts, the pain that reminded him _he_ was deep in there. Somewhere. Still human. “It’s a little early to just go to sleep,” Ardyn murmured, like the hours of the day meant nothing at all. Glancing over his shoulder to be sure that Iris was in the car—with the doors shut, on her phone, the light shining through the glass—Ardyn rolled over and crawled onto Cor’s lap, straddling his hips, fingers tangling into the longer hair at the back of his neck, as he leaned over and kissed the other man.

“I always knew you had an exhibitionist streak,” Ardyn murmured, pulling Cor’s hands to slide up under the hem of his shirt. “Scandalous, Marshal.”

\--

Ardyn seemed a little out of it as he laid there against the runes, the blue light illuminating his face and the red of his hair. When Cor asked him, though, he rolled over, moved into his lap, and Cor rested his hands on his hip bones, stabilizing the bad one a little, leaning up to kiss him back.

He smiled, sliding his hands up under his shirt at Ardyn’s coaxing, spreading his palms over the smooth skin of his stomach, then up to his ribs, thumbing his nipples. “Never before I met you,” He muttered. “You’ve corrupted me.” He smiled wider, bent his knees, and leaned in to be closer to him, to kiss his neck, gently. He still bore some of the marks he’d left on him the last time, though they were beginning to fade. “You’re going to make good on that offer from earlier, aren’t you?”

\--

Ardyn giggled. “I rather think I haven’t corrupted you all that much,” he murmured, tucking their noses together. “You’re still all in one piece, bleed red, and the first time we had sex I sucked you off behind a diner.” The only difference now was that they’d somehow gone and accidentally fallen in love. Which was stupid of them. (Even if Ardyn wouldn’t admit it.)

Cor bent his knees, sliding Ardyn more into his lap, and he draped his arms over the other man’s shoulders and tucked his chin over Cor’s head, hummed. “That was my intention, yes. If you still want to get fucked on stone, Astrals know at _your_ age that _can’t_ be good for your hips.” Or, in fact, his either. “Oh, and,” Ardyn shifted forward to rub his half-hard dick into the base of the other man’s stomach, “If you have lube with you. I can’t think you’d enjoy the shoe on the other foot.”

\--

Cor let out a quiet half-laugh. It had been a long time since that day behind the diner. So much had changed. He never would have thought he’d be here, tucked up against Ardyn Lucis Caelum. He never thought he’d be so in love. It was still foolish, it always had been, but there was nothing to be done about it.  


“As you just pointed out,” he said, looking up at him. “The first time, you sucked me off behind a diner, and we did it in the men’s bathroom a week ago. I think I’ll live.” He sucked in a quiet breath as Ardyn shifted forward and he could feel his dick rubbing against his stomach.  


He was still wearing his coat, open on his shoulders, and he reached into one pocket and pulled out a small bottle of lube. “Given your tendency to show up unannounced, I’m always prepared.” He frowned. “Please use it. I’m not into getting my ass torn apart like you are. And, it’s been a very long time.”

\--

“Fucking me against a bathroom stall wall is _not_ the same as getting your hips slammed into stone but, it’s your funeral, Marshal. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Ardyn looked at the proffered bottle and shifted back, sticking it between his teeth as he worked on getting Cor’s slacks off. They were going to make a mess. At least it wasn’t cold.  


“That was why I _asked_ ,” Ardyn muttered around the tube in his mouth as he peeled his own t-shirt off, undid the button on his slacks to let them hang loose and open around his hips and tugged Cor’s trousers down around his hips, over his thighs to his knees. “Do you want to prep yourself,” he continued, still muffled by the tube, glancing up at Cor, “Or do you want me to do it?”  


\--

Cor shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” he assured him, even if it had been a while. It couldn’t be _that_ bad. Ardyn took the bottle, and Cor shrugged out of his jacket while Ardyn started working on his slacks for him, leaning back on his elbows once he was down to just his shirt. From the anticipation alone he was half-hard, and he breathed slow and even as he watched Ardyn strip off his layers, too, lifting his hips so the other man could get his trousers down around his knees.

“You,” he said, finally sitting up enough to strip his shirt off and then leaning back down. It was a warm night, at least, so it wasn’t all that uncomfortable being mostly naked in the open air. “I want you to.”

\--

Ardyn felt a little chilled, but they were going to be warm again soon enough once they got to fucking, and he glanced up when Cor got his shirt off and lay back down. The hair on his chest was going grey—it looked silver in the light from the campsite, and Ardyn pressed his face against the other man’s thigh for a moment, breathed, and then fumbled to get the top off of the lube, spilled it onto his fingers. He’d never used the stuff before, and it was thicker and more viscous than he had expected, sticking between his fingers rather than sliding back off. “Oh,” Ardyn murmured, leaning back on his haunches, “I expected it to be like olive oil.” That’s what he’d had access to last time. “It’s _sticky_.”  


\--  


Ardyn pressed his face to his thigh, breathed against his skin and Cor shuddered, watching as he got the lube on his fingers, as interest and confusion flickered across his face, and Cor smiled. “Yes,” he said gently, “It is, a little. Not really like oil.” Oil was slick, too, but much more slippery and greasy.  


He settled back more, spread his legs and shifted his hips up, trying to relax himself because, at the least, he knew that was important. “I’m ready.”  


\--  


Cor was smiling indulgently at him, and Ardyn bit the inside of the other man’s knee a little harder than necessary out of spite as Cor rolled back onto the sleeping bags, his legs spread, and Ardyn leaned forward, hand pressed between his thighs, only to pause, one hand still sticky with lube.

“Your boots are still on,” he pointed out. And Cor still had his pants around his knees. “You should take those off.”

\--

Cor frowned when Ardyn bit at his knee, leaning forward, one hand between his thighs. And then he stopped and Cor let out a slow, frustrated breath. It wasn’t like they hadn’t fucked with half their clothes still on before but, well, he did want to get his legs up around the other man’s thighs, so Ardyn had a point.

“Right,” he muttered, sat up a little to work his boots off one by one, and pulled his pants off entirely, casting them aside. Then he leaned back again, reached up to tangle one hand into Ardyn’s hair, dragging him closer. “You’re going to kill me from the anticipation,” he grumbled.

\--

Cor did as he’d asked, stripping from the waist down, and flopped onto his back again, fingers tangled in Ardyn’s hair and dragging him over, making him crawl between Cor’s thighs. “Patience is a virtue,” he muttered, sliding his fingers up between the other man’s cheeks and letting out a slow, shaky breath as his fingertips skated over the tight pucker of his entrance. Was Ardyn usually this tight? Even just tracing the muscle he could feel Cor quivering with tension. “Also, I don’t really fit around them properly.” As he said it, he leaned on his elbow over Cor, watched his face, handsome and tense, and twisted just the tip of one finger up into him.

It was like a fucking vice, is what it was.  


“I am _never_ going to get in you at this rate,” Ardyn grumbled. And his dick was _nothing_ like Cor’s. In size or width. Getting Cor’s own cock in him would have been both anatomically and practically impossible, as tight as he was. “You have to relax.”

\--

Ardyn shifted between his thighs and Cor spread them as much as he could to give him space, trying to breathe as evenly as possible. He was a little nervous, but he watched Ardyn’s face and the quiet concentration there as warm fingers traced his entrance. Cor shifted, tensing maybe too much when he pushed the tip of one finger in. It wasn’t an unwelcome intrusion, he just wasn’t used to it.

“I’m trying,” he grunted, easing himself down on the bedroll until he was laying flat, his head on the pillow he’d brought with him, and he stroked Ardyn’s hair affectionately and sighed, letting all the tension flow out of him as much as he could, breathing slow, trying to think of how good it would feel. It was feeling pretty good already with just the tip of one finger in, a warm, solid presence.

\--

Cor grunted and started to relax around him, melting slowly into the ground, and Ardyn leaned more over him, coaxed his legs to sprawl further open, twisted his fingertip slowly into the other man and just let it rest there, not going anywhere, not doing anything. What Ardyn wanted when he got fucked was to bleed and cry and tear, for Cor to force his way in like breaking down a door.

Instead, this was all slow ease and gentle push. His breath was caught in his chest, and Ardyn felt a little overwhelmed. Cor was trusting him, Cor always trusted him, and that was saying a lot. Saying, perhaps, too much. So, he just kept pushing until he had one finger all the way inside him, in his hot tightness, and pressed their foreheads together, watched his lust-bright eyes, and pulled out to push in a second finger, scissoring Cor gently open and wide around his knuckles.

\--

Ardyn leaned over him, twisting his finger in slowly as Cor exhaled, and then he just let it stay there, in him, letting him relax around it. He breathed. The other man’s finger inside him wasn’t quite like anything he’d felt before. It was different than he remembered it being, when he’d had sex like this years and years ago, but he’d been young and it had been hasty. This was good, and Ardyn was being so uncharacteristically slow and gentle, so affectionate, it made his chest tight and his skin hot.

He gasped a little as Ardyn worked a second finger into him, looked up at his eyes, and moaned under his breath as they pressed in deeper. The more Ardyn stretched him, the more he started to think about how it would feel to have the man’s cock pressing into him instead and what _that_ would feel like, and he pushed his hips into the other man’s hand, staring up at his amber eyes.

Cor tangled his fingers into Ardyn’s hair, loose, just to hold onto him. He was hard and starting to ache and wanting him more and more. “It feels good,” he said, panting, just so Ardyn knew. “Just keep going, slow, like that.”

\--

Cor breathed out, pulled on his hair, and shook. “All right,” he managed after a moment, his tongue dry in his mouth, nodded. “You’re doing so well, Cor,” he murmured, twisting inside him, pulling on his rim. Two fingers scissoring into Cor became three, and he was still tight but took it easier now. “You’re so hot, gods, so hot and tight, I bet you can’t wait to get me in you, push you wide open,” Until Ardyn’s hand and wrist, unused to this, were cramping, and then he finally pulled out, his cock dripping and hard untouched in his boxers. He needed more lube, or to fuck Cor, or both of those things.

“Do you need more?” Ardyn finally managed, his heart pounding in his throat. “Or are you ready?”  


\--

He closed his eyes partway, shifted into his touch again as Ardyn kept going, twisting fingers into him. But as soon as Ardyn told him he was doing well, muttered under his breath, hot and gentle, he could _feel_ himself burning, his face bright red, his cock throbbing. He let out a strangled, needy sound, something like a choked up groan, eyes wide and wanting as he looked up at him, rolling his hips into his hand, his breath heavy and his heart racing. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to be good for him, to be told that he was. And as Ardyn went on, speaking to him like that, he let out quiet, choked up sobs for it, spread his legs further, and rocked his hips. “Yes,” he moaned, because he did want that, he wanted to feel Ardyn in him, he wanted to be _his_.

He could feel himself relaxing easier around Ardyn’s fingers as he started to burn from the arousal, his cock leaking against his stomach, and he gasped for breath. Ardyn had fit three fingers in him and he felt slick and open around them. The stretch didn’t bother him so much anymore, and he _wanted_.

When Ardyn pulled his fingers out, he sunk back down against the bedroll and the stone beneath, and he eyed the other man’s cock as he pulled it out of his boxers, hard and leaking. He trembled, swallowing hard, and rolled his hips.

“I’m ready,” Cor breathed, and tore his gaze away from his dick to watch his face again. Trying to catch his breath, all of him too hot and too in love, he watched the way Ardyn’s hair shifted in the quiet breeze, and how intense and expressive his eyes were, and the way the blue light of the runestones played off his skin. And, most of all, the way he held himself, even now, as he leaned over Cor, beautiful and regal. There was no question in the world that Cor’s loyalty to him was absolute. “Your Majesty.”  


\--  


Cor was watching his cock with starlight glowing in his eyes, his lips parted and his erection at such attention that if Ardyn had wanted he could have sank down inch by burning inch on it and probably come just from that. When Cor called him by his title, Ardyn hissed between his teeth and fumbled to slick his cock, rolling over the other man and hooking an elbow below his knee, pulling him up and open. Cor wasn’t nearly as flexible as he was, so he didn’t push it, just held his thighs open.  


“Breathe,” Ardyn said, not sure if the reminder was for him or Cor, and then parted his ass and pushed the head of his dick past the tight pucker of his entrance, inside him. “Oh,” Ardyn whispered, eyes wide, staring down into Cor’s face, trembling. “You’re hot as hellfire, gods.” He was, too, and every too-slick inch into him left Ardyn panting and skinned alive. Tighter than his fist, tighter than anything, Cor was tension and coiled power and clenching down on him like he wanted to stay there. “Why didn’t we do this sooner,” he asked, finally sprawling on his elbows above Cor, pushed in all the way home. “You look like you belong under me.”

\--

Ardyn moved over him, pulled his thighs open, and Cor closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed as he felt the head of the other man’s cock pressing at his entrance. He gasped when it slid into him, looking up at him again. His cock felt wider, even, than he thought it would be as it pressed into him, burning hot and hard and slick. Cor let himself relax back against the pillow, moaning shamelessly as Ardyn pushed in inch by inch. He could feel the other man’s cock rubbing against his rim, opening him wide, and as he took more of it, he felt so unbelievably full, full of Ardyn’s cock in a way he’d never known he needed.

Ardyn leaned down over him, pushed in the rest of the way and Cor gasped as he eased in that last inch, settled to the base, and he could feel the other man’s balls pressed against his ass. Ardyn was so deep in him he felt like he was already losing his mind. He rocked their hips together, moaned as he felt Ardyn shift inside him. “I do,” he gasped, aching at his words, and looked up at him. “Your Majesty,” he panted for breath. “I’m yours.”

\--

Cor was louder than he ever had been before; something here was doing it for him apparently, in a way that it hadn’t previously. Ardyn couldn’t be sure if it was getting fucked or the praise. When Cor called out to him by title again, Ardyn dropped his head, his curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. “This seems a little unfair,” he murmured, more amused than he had any right to be. “I almost wish you’d never found out.” Cor had nailed his weakness a little too close to home.

Finally adjusted to the warmth of the other man, Ardyn shifted slightly to get his knees under him, lifting Cor’s hips up off of the ground, and hesitantly pulled out, to see what Cor would do, before he found a pace that was deep and slow, to warm him up. Ardyn knew not everyone could go to getting fucked senseless for the first time in decades as easily as he had.

\--

Cor tangled his fingers into the other man’s curls again, smiled when he dropped his head. Maybe it was a little unfair, but Cor _liked_ referring to him by his title, and he liked the way Ardyn reacted when he did.

They shifted, Ardyn lifting his hips, and Cor made a quiet sound at the change in angle, his hips angled up towards the other man, his knees drawn up. When he pulled out, Cor closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering breath, leaning his head back and arching a little as he started up a slow, deep pace. He found himself relaxing into it, gently rocking his hips back towards Ardyn’s. “Yes,” he muttered, enjoying the push and pull of it. “Oh, that’s good.”

\--

Cor shut his eyes and shuddered, hard, clenching down against him. Ardyn had, apparently found a better angle for him, and Cor kept rolling up into him, looking for more, no doubt. “You like that?” Ardyn asked, as it got easier, as Cor opened up around him, whining and Ardyn wishing the other man would put his hands on his throat. “You like me filling you? You want more of that, Cor?” He knew Cor wanted more. “You love being good for me, don’t you?” Ardyn scooped up Cor’s knee, pushed his leg further out so that he could settle in deeper, a keen low in the back of his throat. “Gods, you’re so tight, so tight. I can. Barely fucking move in you, is this what it feels like when you fuck me?”

\--

“Yes,” Cor breathed, watching Ardyn’s face as the other man fucked him. “ _Yes_.” Every sentence he got out Cor quietly sobbed and pressed his hips back towards him. He did love it, _wanted_ it. “I _love_ being good for you,” he repeated, “I want to be good.” He was panting, flushed, desperate, and with Ardyn fucking him it was easy to just let himself go in the feel of it, especially when the other man pulled up his knee, pushed in deeper, and Cor moaned soft and low. And when Ardyn asked if that was what it was like to fuck him, all tight, dry heat, clenching down around him, he thought about that, and how it felt just as good the other way around, and pressed his hips towards him again.

“Yes,” he muttered. “It feels just like that.” He combed his fingers through the other man’s hair, and he felt so full and so warm, and he wanted more of Ardyn fucking him, to feel him slide deeper. He could already feel him against his prostate, and every time he brushed that spot it was like lightning all through him.

“Your Majesty,” he got out, moving his fingers around his ear, down to the base of his jaw, then his neck, and he pressed his palm there, over the fading marks on his skin, wrapped his fingers around his throat, just holding on, holding him up. “I want to give you everything. All of me. Whatever you want. I want to please you. More than anything.”

\--

Cor moaned when Ardyn got deeper in him, and there was something about that vulnerability that pushed him on, made him go faster. There was nothing in it for him going slow and steady, he _needed_ , needed Cor writhing and twisting under him, crying out in anguish. Gasping, sweat droplets stuck to his eyelashes, Ardyn doubled over him, elbows and knees digging into the stone through the sleeping bags with the force he was fucking Cor, the other man rolling hard back up into him as they got faster, fucking together with all force and no finesse at all.

When Cor finally, finally finally, _finally_ finally—wrapped his hand around his throat—Ardyn sobbed, trembling hard all over, and pressed their foreheads together, pushed into him again, rolling his hips up to try and hit Cor’s prostate like the other man did for him, not caring at all any more about how much it was going to hurt later. “I want,” he whispered, voice hoarse and ragged from Cor choking him, “I want to feel you come around me. I want to watch you come apart. You’re taking me so well, I know you can—” his voice cracked, and Ardyn shuddered, hard, coming apart at the seams, overwhelmed. Between Cor beneath him, _around_ him, holding him together and so hot around his cock he felt like melting, and the pulsing heat and light from the stones beneath them, he was already coming undone, the darkness sand-blasted from his body and mind, and Cor was just watching him, looking at him like he was royalty and kindness and—

“Oh, love,” Ardyn choked, wrecked and ragged and totally overwhelmed, digging his nose into Cor’s cheek, sprawled over him as Cor choked him, as he came so close to shattering that it was only a matter of heartbeats between him and oblivion, “Oh, love.”

\--  


Ardyn started fucking into him harder, faster, and all Cor could do was moan and hold him by his throat, hanging on and arching his hips into his thrusts. Each push into him fucked the breath right out of him, all wild and forceful and exactly what he wanted. The roughness of it felt so good he was leaking wildly, moaning without even realizing it.  


And then Ardyn rolled his hips in just the right way and all at once Cor felt like he was coming apart, losing his mind, there was such brightness behind his eyes, such heat all through him as Ardyn fucked against his prostate. He was making unintelligible sounds, squeezing his neck just to hold onto something, and Ardyn’s words were dizzying, made his heart pound in his chest, made him gasp for breath.

_I can_ , was what he wanted to say but all that came out was a strangled, “ _Please_ ,” and Ardyn was shuddering over him as Cor watched him, moaning unabashedly, he didn’t even know how loud. The other man was buckling down over him so that Cor was practically holding him up by his throat, their faces shoved together, fingers pressing into his skin.

And then Ardyn said love, called him that, and as Cor looked at him, everything else in the world ceased to be, and he felt like he must be ascending to the afterlife or he didn’t even know what else but Ardyn was there, above him, taking him, and loved him, and Cor _knew_ he was sobbing but he felt so far gone he didn’t care, he just curled his fingers into Ardyn’s hair, around his throat, tried to claw him closer, canted his hips up and sobbed louder, arching against him, jerking his hips. “Please,” he gasped. “ _Please_ , Your Majesty.” There was nothing left but him and his King. His King, fucking him, needing him, _loving_ him, and he was so close it burned, everything coiled too tight in his stomach, his cock leaking wildly. If he’d been touching his dick at all he would have come already, he knew it. Even the gentle grinding of it against Ardyn’s stomach was almost enough, between that and his King’s cock on his prostate, and he knew he was going to lose it any second with or without more friction on his aching erection, but he _had_ to ask, _wanted_ to ask, even if Ardyn had already said he wanted it. He choked it out, barely, through all the desperate sounds he couldn’t keep in. “May I come for you? _Please_.”

\--

Cor, Cor who was usually so quiet, so controlled, all grunts and under-the-breath praise and pleas, was moaning and crying like he was dying. Cor was begging, and Ardyn fumbled to get his hand around the other man’s cock, fingers shaking with a heady mix of arousal and the fact that he was close to blacking out from the lack of oxygen reaching his brain, Cor choking him near to not being able to breathe at all. But still, he stroked Cor off like needing, and when the other man asked him, Ardyn tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken wheezing noise as he choked for air around Cor’s hands on his throat, and he ducked his head, sobbed.

“Yes,” he managed ragged, nails digging into his palm, Cor’s cock hot and hard and throbbing against his fingers. “Yes, yes, yes.” He wanted to feel Cor come apart around him, and held on, held on by the skin of his teeth to watch the other man’s face when he did, to feel how tight he’d get.

\--

As soon as Ardyn touched his cock Cor let out a grateful, shuddering breath and arched into that touch, groaning. He could feel the other man’s fingers shaking and he knew Ardyn must be on the edge, too, close to passing out from how tight he was holding his neck, restricting his air. He tried to speak, and then, at last, got out his approval. It was a gorgeous, hoarse string of _yes_ es and he could feel his cock throbbing and leaking. Cor thrust against his palm, watching Ardyn’s eyes as he felt himself reach the edge and, finally, shaking and gasping and groaning, came.

He dug his fingers even harder into Ardyn’s neck as he tensed and released himself, sobbing from the force of it and letting himself ride out every wave as it shook him to the core. All the heat cascaded through him at once, and he rolled his hips and moaned, clenched down hard on Ardyn’s cock inside him. And when it started to recede and he felt drunk on the pleasure of it, he dragged his King down by his throat to shove their mouths together, too.

\--

When Cor came it was like dying. He tightened so much that Ardyn couldn’t push in or pull out, just had to stay balls-deep inside his too-hot body. Cor was sobbing, choking Ardyn so hard that he felt faint with it, and he was glad Cor kissed him, because when Cor kissed him he came, his anguished strangled shout cut off against the other man’s lips, Ardyn’s elbows trembling so hard he could only collapse onto his chest, thrusting hopelessly deep inside Cor, riding out the throbbing burn of orgasm, the wild heat and the too-hard clench of his hips knifebright pain as he spilled inside the other man. And then he just fell over, boneless and dead-tired, gently pulling Cor’s hand away from his throat, shutting his eyes as he whined, exhausted, into the sweat-slick side of Cor’s neck, their knees and hips tangled as he pulled out albeit too-slow, and stilled.

He was going to have come on his pants, probably. He couldn’t bring himself to care. But, as they lay there, Ardyn shotgun-burst open and empty in the afterglow, the door to the car creaked very slowly open.

“Gee!” Iris called, “It sure is _late_ huh? Guess we had all better go to sleep!” He tilted his head up slightly to look toward her, and then fell supine again, giggling, because there was nothing else to do for it but laugh.

\--  


As they kissed, he felt the other man tense and come inside him, hot and shaky, and Cor moaned into his mouth, kissed him deeper as he felt Ardyn shift, shouting against his lips. He thrust into him, still, even as he collapsed over him, and Cor let go of his throat, looped his arms around his waist instead, and held him.  


He grunted as the other man pulled out, then relaxed, dazed and happy and exhausted in the afterglow. Ardyn’s face was shoved against the side of his neck and Cor stroked his hair, gently running his fingers through the strands, working out tangles. He was too tired to move, to think, he just wanted to breathe and hold Ardyn against him and stay right where he was, comfortable with the other man on top of him and all their limbs tangled together.

When he heard the car door open, he startled into a sudden bleary sort of alertness, more out of instinct than anything, and stared over at the car as Iris leaned out and shouted, then closed it again with a very pointed slam.

Ardyn was laughing and Cor was smiling, too, though flushed from exhaustion and embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to be so… obvious. Or loud.

“She’s right,” he mumbled to Ardyn at last. “Will you share a sleeping bag with me?” It was late, and he _was_ tired, but he wanted to fall asleep with Ardyn tucked up next to him.

\--

“I didn’t say she wasn’t,” Ardyn replied, his voice fuck and choke-hoarse, and he pressed his face into the curve of Cor’s neck, exhausted. He didn’t want to move, let alone clean up, so he just settled for turning the sleeping bag over and pulling his trousers back up before he sprawled boneless once more. “I mean,” Ardyn muttered, “I don’t really have anywhere else to go, so I suppose, if I must.”

\--

Cor, at least somewhat previously prepared for the inevitability of having sex in a location that was not their bedroom, dragged his coat over and pulled a handkerchief from the inner pocket, wiped himself off haphazardly on that, and tossed it aside while Ardyn pulled his trousers on. He pulled his underwear and trousers back on, too.  


“You always act like it’s some great chore,” Cor muttered, smiling because it was endearing, and tucked himself into one of the sleeping bags. “I like sleeping next to you. It’s nice.” And, he wanted to take advantage of it while he still could.

\--

“You’re hot,” Ardyn grumbled good-naturedly, following Cor to lay down inside the sleeping bag. It was not big enough for two grown men, but it worked. He did make sure to wipe himself up, though, especially the semen on his slacks before it stained. That would be far, far too many questions to deal with. “And clingy. And you snore. A man of my age needs his beauty sleep, you know.” As he said it, Ardyn sprawled over Cor, their knees tangled, his head pillowed on the other man’s impressive pectorals, hand slid halfway down the waistband of his trousers. _Clingy_. “And you’re making a habit of it. I have to break it.”

-

Cor laughed quietly at all his affectionate complaints. “Is that so,” he muttered. “I snore?” He’d never been told he snored before. Good to know, he supposed.

Ardyn slid into the sleeping bag with him, a tight fit, but he didn’t mind. It was wonderfully warm, and the other man felt good sprawled across his chest, a welcome weight, fingers slipping down beneath his trousers. Cor hummed appreciatively, wrapping one arm around his waist, fingers rubbing at the small of his back. With the other, he stroked his hair again, held him close. “You can’t just let me enjoy myself, can you?” he mumbled under his breath, relaxing, closing his eyes. “Anyway, I think you like this just as much.” He smiled a little. “Let us have this, while we still can.”

\--

“You’re going to miss me when I’m not around to complain at you any more,” Ardyn settled on, smiling as he said it. “You’ll never get anything done without me here to whine about it.” He stretched, then, yawned, and bit gently at Cor’s collarbone. “Go to sleep, Marshal.”

\--

“I am,” he admitted quietly, pressing his face into the other man’s hair, smiling and breathing him in. Gods above, he was in love with this disaster of a man, who had been cast aside and broken and blamed for so much, who was more than half daemon at this point and who spat on the Astrals and was the catalyst for the Starscourge, and through all of that, Cor loved him for the person he was beneath the layers of daemon and hate and pettiness and lies.

He really would miss him when he was gone.

He smiled into Ardyn’s curls, nodded, and held him tighter, taking one great breath before he let himself drift off to the warm pressure of Ardyn against him and the feeling of him breathing and the gentle beat of his heart.

\--

Cor tucked up against him, face pressed into his curls, and Ardyn didn’t have the heart to make himself push the other man away, just got comfortable. He didn’t sleep that night; instead he lay there with his fingers splayed over the blue glow of the campsite, and just closed his eyes and let himself drift. He had long-since grown able to ignore the hisses and whispers of the daemons who inhabited more of his skin than he did, but to have them truly be silent was—

Something he was unprepared for. To have silence and the blissful emptiness of thoughts and the low burn as the glyphs tried to expel a part of him but not all was nice. Even if it did hurt, a burn that tingled at the back of his neck and left his head throbbing off and on. It was worth it, though. Worth it to, perhaps just the once, enjoy the silence and the weight of Cor’s arms around his waist without having to dream of darkness and clawing hunger.


	13. i am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was getting worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [fall out boy's "immortals"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9PxOanFjxQ)

Ardyn rose before either Cor or Iris, when the light from his phone revealed that it was close to what should have been dawn, and cleaned up, dressed, and shook the other man awake. He was stiff, his bad hip aching from all their exertion the day before on top of sleeping on stone, but it wasn’t so bad he couldn’t ignore it. “Get up,” Ardyn murmured, before he went to knock on the car window to roll Iris out of her nest, his glamour much easier to keep up without the grating of the glyphs in the campsite.

\--

Cor slept well enough, warm at least, despite the stone being uncomfortable and unforgiving beneath him. With Ardyn there, it was almost too hot, even, but he only vaguely woke up a few times, shifted and went back to sleep.

He was used to waking up without the light of dawn, but normally he woke with his alarm in the morning. So, when it was Ardyn shaking him awake instead, he felt groggy and confused, rolling over and staring up at him as he opened his eyes. He grabbed his phone, checked the time, and it wasn’t all that much earlier than he normally awoke, anyway.

Slipping one arm out from the warmth of the sleeping bag, he grabbed his shirt, pulled it on as he sat up and stretched. His back ached like hell and when he started pulling himself up, he found his hips hurt even worse, all sore from having rough sex on flat stone with only the sleeping bag for comfort.

“Ow,” he grunted, and sat down on it again, tried to stretch to ease the pain. Well, once they got back to the city, he could take a day or so to rest, at least. He really wasn’t getting any younger, and he forgot that too often.

\--

Cor was grunting as he moved about, in pain, and Ardyn stood at the edge of the campsite rather than enter the glyphs again. It meant that the whispers were back—the intrusive thoughts of _you could kill them both_ and _Cor would make a powerful daemon_ —but it also meant his head didn’t hurt. “I warned you last night,” he said to Cor, head tilted over to look at him upside down. “You’re not getting any younger, Marshal.”

“Can you like, _not_ have that conversation where I can hear you?” Iris shouted from the half-open car door. “It’s like you’re having sex with my dad! Blegh!”

Ardyn just grinned.

-

Ardyn lingered over at the edge of the campsite near the car, where Iris was just waking up. “So you did,” he agreed. “I didn’t think it would feel _this_ bad in the morning.”

When Iris shouted at them, though, he stopped and just smiled. Ardyn was grinning at him. “Your fathers had sex, too,” he reminded her.

“Yeah!” she called back, “and I’d like to not think about that, thanks!”

Cor laughed under his breath. Iris was a wonderful daughter figure, but even at almost twenty, still a teenager in some ways. He tried his best to stretch out his legs and hips and his back, and then shrugged into his coat, doing up the buttons. He still felt stiff and sore but better for having stretched.

Rolling their sleeping bags back up, he collected them and brought them over to the car to pack them back into the trunk. “Iris,” he said, “Have you texted Monica?”

“Yeah,” she said, “She’s going to leave as soon as she makes sure she has someone to take care of Myra. It’ll probably be an hour or two. So, we can just wait with the car. Or if you want I’ll do a little scouting so you two can have your alone time or whatever.”

\--

Ardyn smiled. Cor had come a long way; the man he’d met so many years ago could never have spoken so easily of his King’s love life. “I think we’re quite done with alone time, no need to worry. At our ages, you know, these things don’t come easily.” Iris looked over at Ardyn with the most anguished face, almost pouting.

“ _Gross._ ”

As she said it, there was a rustle somewhere out of sight, and Ardyn straightened off of the edge of the platform, his face tense. “There’s something nearby,” he said, voice just loud enough for Cor to hear.

\--

Cor snorted at Iris’s suggestion and Ardyn’s comment. “No,” he said, “we should stay together. You and I can fend for ourselves, Iris, but Altum can’t.”

He quieted and tensed, when Ardyn whispered to him. He could hear it, too, a sound like rustling bushes or the wind in the trees or, more likely, something else. And then he could hear the growling and Iris looked at them, saw Cor reacting and tensed, too. Cor put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He could use magic, technically, but he most often didn’t. It was Ardyn’s power that gave him the ability. Everyone else’s had vanished a while after Insomnia fell and the Starscourge came, except for the boys, who still were blessed by their connection to Noctis, crystal be damned. So, he was used to carrying his weapon anyway, used to fighting without it.

Iris reached for her own sword, half unsheathing it. “Daemons?” she frowned, climbing back up onto the glyphs of the campsite to look around. She seemed wary but unsure, and Cor put a hand on Ardyn’s shoulder, then started moving cautiously towards the sound. “This close?” Iris asked. “They should be driven off by the runes.”

\--

Iris reacted almost as fast as Cor had, and Ardyn pushed himself up onto the campsite, scrambling back to get his legs onto the stone. He didn’t really need to be, but as far as Iris knew, he was helpless and as mortal as they were. Normally, if he’d been accosted by daemons, he would just have ignored it and let them do whatever they wanted until the sun rose. Or they got tired of it and left.

“Don’t leave the campsite,” Ardyn warned, staying crouched. “They can’t enter it. You should be safe here.” Of course, they hadn’t been driven off; they’d been drawn in by Ardyn the moment he’d left the campsite. They had probably been lurking there the better part of the night and not approached until they could get near to him.

He was far more worried about when Monica arrived. If the daemons were still there, someone could easily get hurt or killed. He could draw them off but—not without raising Iris’ suspicions.

\--

Ardyn retreated back to the campsite, as any typical civilian would have done. Iris was already there and Cor followed after. He couldn’t see any daemons through the trees but they often appeared out of nowhere. They were likely out there, lurking about. He glanced back at Ardyn, considering that it was even more likely they were being drawn in because of him.

Then, he let out a slow sigh. “You stay here, Altum,” he said quietly. “We can’t have Monica getting mobbed when she arrives or, worse, get attacked while we try to start the car. Better to clean them out now. We won’t move far from the camp site. But, if they’re middle or lower class daemons, it shouldn’t be an issue for the two of us.”

“Yeah,” Iris agreed, and Cor motioned to her to follow close, skirting around the edge of the campgrounds towards the sounds of what were definitely daemons. They slowed, and then he could see them, their enormous bodies climbing out of pools of sludge, and he wished he could use his magic. “Protect Altum,” he told her, “and watch my back,” as the two daemons spotted him at once, one an enormous Naga, the other a Yojimbo, and he turned to face the Naga first, sword drawn, charging in.

\--

Ardyn stayed for about all of five seconds before he started following Cor and Iris. “They’re not,” he tried to warn the other man, because there weren’t really lower- or middle-class daemons any more. All that was left were the monsters, and this was certainly some of them. “Cor,” Ardyn tried to say, hopping down off of the edge of the campground and crouching, “This is a bad idea.” He hissed it, not wanting to raise his voice.

Too late.

Cor charged in, and Ardyn itched to Warp forward and drag him back to safety, the other man running in without magic, just his blade. As Ardyn tried to find a way to help, he turned and saw the Yojimbo pull its blade, skirting Iris and coming straight for him.

“Get back to the campsite!” Iris yelled at him, spinning and bringing her sword up to block the Yojimbo’s strike aside, Ardyn scrambling back a few steps. “It’s not safe for you out here!”

\--

Ardyn tried to stop him but, too late. Anyone else, and he would have ignored the warnings. He knew how to look after himself. Ardyn’s warnings, though, made him a little uneasy. He couldn’t tell if the other man was just overreacting and worried about him or if he really was in over his head. But he would be careful, and retreat if he had to.

The Naga, he easily kept busy. Even without his warp strikes he was nimble enough for his age, striking at its tough scales, slashing at the head when it reached down to try to bite him. He could hear Iris yelling and whirled to face her, where she was warding Ardyn back to the glyphs as the Yojimbo worked its way around to try to get to him.

Cor hissed through his teeth but there wasn’t much he could do when he had his hands full just staying out of the Naga’s coils and avoiding her gaze and the green smoke she spewed. She could handle the Yojimbo by herself for a little while, and he tried to carefully dodge his way towards her in case she needed back up.

\--

Cor was holding up fine against the Naga so far, but Ardyn knew it wouldn’t last. “Get Cor!” He tried to tell Iris, hedging back to the campground, and Iris looked toward the Marshal, which was the mistake. As she turned the daemon followed her with his sword and struck her—mercifully in the side, with the edge of his blade, rather than running her through.

She shouted, sent flying, and scrambled in the dust to get to her feet, her side bleeding freely. She pressed a hand against it, and Ardyn was _this close_ to summoning his sword as Iris tried to get back in front of him.

It was then that the Naga threw itself forward past Cor and straight toward Iris. She shrieked, barely blocking a bite in time, but its tail followed up the strike, took Iris’s legs out from under her, and coiled around her body and chest before throwing her. The young woman hit the ground with a wet smack—and stayed down. “Hell,” Ardyn snarled, and threw a Protect around her prone body without looking, and with his free hand conjured up a Firaga, the fire blistering with heat. “Move!” He shouted to Cor, and flung it directly between the two daemons, the blast from its impact lighting up the black Starscourge sky and setting the whole landscape aflame.

\--

Cor had one eye on Iris, but it was difficult to watch her when he was already looking after himself. Normally, he would have trusted her to take care of herself but Ardyn was right, these were no lower class daemons, and the Naga was the sort of beast that normally would have been tackled by three or four hunters at once. Retreating to the camp ground, however, was not an option, not when they had no way to get out or move the car. They would be trapped there, they would have to call Monica and tell her to turn back and bring backup, if there was even any available.

He lunged for the Naga again, turning as he heard Iris screech in pain. “Iris!” he called, moving away from the Naga suddenly to dart towards her but the daemon was faster, lashing out with its teeth and its tail, snatching her up and whipping her aside. She hit the ground hard, collapsed in a heap, and Cor ground his teeth and turned back to the daemon. She probably wasn’t dead, just unconscious. (He hoped.)

Ardyn was snarling behind him somewhere, and when he shouted at him to move, Cor moved without question, getting out of the radius of the enormous blast of flame that followed. It was one of the largest he’d ever seen, exploding upwards, lighting up the area around them and shooting embers in every direction.

With Iris unconscious and out of the picture, though, that meant it was him and Ardyn against the daemons. He didn’t imagine Ardyn was in any shape to even try to cure them the way he had Myra. That would raise too many questions, anyway, when Iris awoke. But at the least, the other man could fight, and Cor could use his magic.

And it felt good to warp strike again, flinging his blade through the air to cross the ground, covered in embers and flame, to close in on the Naga’s skull, digging his sword in as he sliced through the flesh of her face at her most vulnerable point.

\--

Cor obeyed him without thinking, and Ardyn had a moment to consider the implications of that before he was yelping in surprise and alarm as the Yojimbo struck forward and put its sword through his stomach, his weight hanging off of it. “This is a waste of time,” he said, to nobody in particular, as he struggled and wiggled and wheezed, all his weight hanging down off of the blade. He pulled his sword from the Armiger and threw it to get away, skidding on the embers of the grass as he Warped instantly back in time to block the next strike that the Yojimbo aimed at Cor, throwing it off and Warping behind it to blindside it, throwing himself backwards to skid behind Cor, tossing up another Protect—this one momentary—over the Marshal as the Naga whipped her tail up again.

He was bleeding from the injury on his side, and Ardyn shrugged off the shirt he’d been wearing. It was white, and the black blood would stain it, dropping it to the ground, and Warped his glasses into his Arsenal before they got shattered in the fighting. “Sorry about your clothes,” he gasped, fingers pressed to his bleeding stomach, as he stilled just behind Cor’s shoulder. “Which one do you want?”

\--

Cor stood atop the Naga’s head as it thrashed beneath him, and it was like coming back to life now that he was able to use his magic, Warping down to strike at it tail when it threw him off, then back to its head, slicing through the hair-like tentacles growing out of its skull.

He heard Ardyn yelp, glanced over in time to see him Warp away from where he was impaled. Cor snorted as he flipped back off the Naga and Warped to the ground, lifting his sword to block the strike from the Yojimbo, but Ardyn was already there, parrying the blow, his red ghosts hanging in the air all around from where he’d warped about, the Armiger fully at his disposal. Cor smiled, just for a moment. Seeing him at his full power like this, getting to fight beside him… he couldn’t have asked for anything better. The Naga’s tail came for him next, and he parried that away, forcing it back.

He darted away after that, to where Ardyn was standing, and glanced at the other man’s wound. On anyone else, it probably would have been near fatal, and Cor took a moment to catch his breath as Ardyn stripped off his shirt. “It’s fine,” he said. He didn’t really care for that shirt, anyway.

Then, he eyed the Naga as it recovered and came towards them again. The Yojimbo was lurking just off to the side. “Give me the Yojimbo,” he said, probably the wisest decision given their difference in strength. “That snake is all yours.”

\--

He hadn’t summoned the Armiger, not wanting to overtax himself, but he did pull his crossbow from the arsenal, spinning it around his hand. He needed range with both of these, and he’d never exactly been a deft hand with a sword, even with all the years training with one. He certainly didn’t have Cor’s skill with a katana. “Samurai to Samurai,” Ardyn laughed, under his breath, as the Naga pounded its tail on the Protect bubble over them, the spell shattering little crystalline chips that fizzled out immediately in the air. “You just want to show off how talented you are with how you wield your sword.” It was better, though. The Naga couldn’t do much to Ardyn, but could easily hurt Cor.

“Fine.” He dropped the bubble a moment later and Warped out and directly into the Naga’s surprised, exposed flank, using the momentum of the strike to dig his sword one-handed into the daemons flesh before Warping away again, twice into midair and then to the ground below, firing crossbow bolts. One took the thing in the eye, and it shrieked in anger, lashing its tail. But, its aim was off without the eye, and it swung it too close to—

“Cor!” Ardyn shouted, throwing a Protect over the other man, distracting himself long enough that the daemon shot its head forward and bit him, teeth going easily through his unprotected stomach, making him yell as he kicked and Warped away, bleeding heavily from puncture wounds up his back as the Petrify set in, freezing him in place, unable to do anything.

The Naga’s tail lashed back from where it had swung, and hit him hard in the side of his stoned chest with a series of snaps, and he couldn’t Warp away as he went sailing and hit the ground, hard enough that there was a wet crunch from somewhere deep in him, and Ardyn had the unenviable experience of realising one of his lungs had collapsed.

\--

Cor snorted at the samurai comment, and the one about him showing off his sword skills. “Well, I’m sure you won’t mind,” he muttered, as the protective bubble shattered. As Ardyn shot towards the Naga, Cor warped to the waiting Yojimbo, drawing his sword and dragging it through the daemon’s side in a flash, lifting his blade to parry as it struck back at him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ardyn warping, red shadows left in the air, and Cor did the same, leaving a red shadow of his own for the daemon’s blade to cut through, coming up behind it. His magic, too, had always been red since Ardyn had gifted him with it and he’d sworn fealty. But, as he struck at the Yojimbo again, he didn’t even notice the Naga’s tail coming for him until Ardyn called his name, throwing up another protective bubble around him, and he turned and watched as the Naga bit the other man, hard, petrifying him and slamming him to the ground.

“Ardyn!” he shouted in alarm as his sword ground against the daemon’s. Even if he knew, realistically, that he would be fine, he needed him in good shape to quell these daemons. He warped to the Yojimbo’s other side and slammed his sword through its shoulder, taking a slice across his hip as it struck out at him, and he closed in further still despite that, catching and parrying its blade, forcing it back before he turned and warped to stand over Ardyn. He caught the Naga’s fangs on his sword as it came in for another bite, teeth screeching along the metal. Turning the sword, he brought it into its mouth and cut into his jaw, the daemon jerking back, and he could see the Yojimbo coming back for him, too. He only wanted to hold them off long enough for Ardyn’s temporary petrification to fade.

\--

You would think, being an immortal monstrosity bound to flickering flesh who could survive literally any injury, recover from any wound, cast magic far beyond the powers of mortal men, summon the full Armiger Arsenal, absorb daemons, heal the Starscorge, and summon one of the six Astrals, Ardyn could have done something about being petrified, facedown on the ground, with a collapsed lung filling with blood.

He couldn’t do shit.

The problem was, he wasn’t used to fighting with mortals. Iris and Cor could be _hurt_ , unlike Ardyn. He had to protect them from injuries that would have killed them, injuries that only left him vaguely disgruntled or, at worst, furious. But he couldn’t do anything until he was unpetrified, and that took _far_ longer than he would have liked, before he finally rolled back to his feet, coughing blood, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, his crossbow out of the arsenal again. He fired a bolt into the Yojimbo without looking, and another two into the Naga, taking out the daemon’s other eye.

“Out of the way!” Ardyn shouted the warning to Cor again before lancing the Naga with Thundaga, the magic blasting out of his palm, electrocuting the thing. Once it was shaking, frozen for a moment as the electricity worked its way out of its body, Ardyn Warped forward with the shatter of glass and glitz as the Armiger spun to life around him, and the crystalline red blades sliced the Naga’s head neatly off of its body, and he jerked to an abrupt halt on the other side, the Arsenal vanishing as he let it go, one hand clutched to his bleeding side under his collapsed lung, the other one holding his crossbow.

\--

Cor stood protectively over him, on full defense, parrying blows from the Naga and the Yojimbo until he heard Ardyn stir behind him. Both daemons, which had been converging on him together, reeled backward as Ardyn shot them, the Naga now down both eyes.

He darted out of the way at Ardyn’s warning just in time to avoid the lightning crashing down on the Naga, and the Yojimbo followed him, thrusting out with its sword as Cor whirled to block it. As he and the daemon samurai exchanged blows, he had the perfect view of Ardyn warping and floating up, glowing red as the full Armiger whirled around him, beautiful and deadly. He felt his heart in his throat, so much so that he nearly lost focus, the Yojimbo’s blade slicing a thin line across his chest as he pulled away. He took the opening it left, clenching his jaw and driving his sword with full force through its stomach, twisting it and dragging upwards to slice the daemon clean in two.

As the pieces fell away, dissolving into black sludge that melted back into the ground, and the Naga did the same, he looked over at Ardyn, the Armiger faded now, leaving only him, clutching his side.

Sheathing his sword, Cor hurried to stand beside him, looking him over. “How bad is it?”

\--

When Cor sliced the remaining daemon in half, Ardyn let his bow warp away and bent at the waist, coughing blood as the Marshal hurried to his side. Ardyn managed a wet, hacking giggle. “Fatal, I’m afraid,” he replied after a moment, wiping black blood off of his mouth and onto his forearm. He looked up at Cor, who had a long, thin cut on his chest. It would heal with a Potion and time, which was good. “Go to Iris, Marshal. I’ll deal with myself and join you in a moment.”

He would fall on his sword, that would be easiest. Right up through his jaw and out the back of his neck would leave a scar, but it would kill him quickly, and that was for the best.

\--

He looked awful, covered in blood and barely able to stand, and Cor frowned in concern as he looked down at him, watching him cough black blood everywhere. “I thought so,” he muttered. His own injures would be fine, there were potions in the car and one of those would fix him up quickly. Still, his breath was a little ragged from the effort and the tingling pain of those wounds.

“Are you sure?” he asked, but then, he’d been responsible for Ardyn’s death enough times, and now that they were on good terms, killing him would be a little… disconcerting, even if it was technically to heal him.

He shifted on his feet, tired and uneasy. “All right.” He turned and headed to where Iris had fallen, kneeling at her side. She was breathing fine, though she seemed to have sustained a bad bump to the head, maybe some bruises, but potions and rest would fix that, too.

He picked her up carefully, carrying her to the car to lay her in the back seat as she began to stir. He used a potion on himself, and grabbed one for her for when she was fully awake. Monica would be there soon, he hoped, and they could return to Lestallum.

\--

Cor seemed loathe to do as he’d asked, and Ardyn waved a hand at the man. “It will hurt less than letting me drown in my own blood. Go.” He coughed again, and waited until Cor had turned away to go to Iris before he summoned his sword to hand, pressed it at the top of his neck, and thrust with all his strength, falling forward.

He blinked, a moment later, facedown on the charred grass, and rolled to his feet, spitting dirt and wiping his mouth. He was still covered in blood, but that wasn’t the worst thing; it could be played off as daemon blood and not his own.

Following Cor back to the car, Ardyn snagged the other man’s shirt and looked at it—the hole where he’d been impaled was a little too obvious. He’d have to use it for something to cover that up. Joining Cor by Iris’ side, Ardyn slid partway into the car and pushed the young woman’s shirt up above the cut she’d taken from the Yojimbo’s sword. It wasn’t fatal like it would have been if she’d taken the sharp end of the blade or impaled, and she was not cut in half, but she was bleeding nevertheless, and the bruising would be serious. He, very carefully, iced the bandages in his hand as he wrapped them around her torso, to take down the swelling, pulling his glasses back out of his Armiger to see more clearly in the dim light

“You’re very lucky,” Ardyn told Iris as she started to stir. “That could have killed you.”

\--

Ardyn joined him a moment later, looking healthy and like himself again, just minus a shirt. The other man leaned in around him, taking a look at Iris’s wound. Cor often forgot that Ardyn was a healer first and foremost.

“It’s not that bad,” Cor muttered. It could have been much worse, considering the similar injury Ardyn had sustained from that same daemon. He stepped back to give Ardyn a little room as he iced and bandaged the wound. She was stirring more, moaning in quiet pain and confusion, and finally opened her eyes, looking up at them.

Iris looked at Ardyn, sighed quietly. “You’re okay,” she said, wincing. “Yeah, no kidding. It hurts.”

“Here.” Cor handed her the potion he’d been holding onto and she took it, used it, and sighed in relief as it started to knit the wound back together.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Do you want to wear my coat?” Cor muttered to Ardyn. He was wearing a shirt underneath it anyway. Regardless, though, he got out his phone to text Monica, to find out where she was and how much longer it would be.

\--

Iris sighed when she saw him all in one piece. “My dear, I am very rarely _not_ okay. You had nothing to worry about on my account.” He pulled away from her and out of the car to give her room to sit up, and climbed back over to the campsite to dig up Cor’s canteen, using the water to rinse his hands and forearms of the worst of his and Iris’ blood, drying them off on the remains of Cor’s now-ruined shirt.

“I’ll pass on the jacket,” he said at last, called it out to Cor. “It would look a little silly, I think.” He could live without it, and without a shirt covering his Armiger scar, the collar of Cor’s coat would just irritate it and leave him out of sorts. He was tired; even the buzzing quiet of the glyphs could not make up for how exhausted using the Armiger and so much magic had left him. It was an awful realisation to have, as he sat there on the campsite he had consecrated lifetimes ago, letting it burn his body in trade for a few more minutes of peace—

It was getting worse.

\--

Monica came soon enough, and they jump-started the car, and took Iris home. She recovered after a few days, and Cor took some time to rest, too. Ardyn vanished again on and off, but he came back on occasion, as he always did, but Cor was beginning to sense that something was… off, about him. He’d always been odd, devious, and a filthy liar, but he seemed more off than usual, and that was saying something, for him. Something was wrong, but Cor didn’t have the heart to confront him about it straight out. He knew it had to be related to the Starscourge, to Noctis, to his personal planned suicide, and the daemons in his head. Cor had done his part already, he’d talked to the lads, reminded them every so often that someday, Noctis would return, and on that day, he had to go to the Citadel and kill Ardyn, and that they had to support him in that effort. They had to train for it, and be ready, above all else. And they listened.

He didn’t know what more he could do.

A thought came to him, though, a few weeks later. Ardyn was lounging on the couch and Cor was half-naked on his knees, panting quietly as he sucked the other man’s cock. He had his palms pressed to the insides of Ardyn’s thighs, lips against the head, mouthing at the slit. In all their years together, he’d only had one other opportunity to do this, ages ago in the camper shower, but now he could finally take his time and he relished it, the taste of him, the heat. But even flushed and panting and achingly hard in his trousers, he was thinking, worried, and he kissed at the side of his erection, licked along his length.

“You should stay,” he said, looking up at him. “And live with me.”

\--

He was losing time. Not like how the clock was counting down, seconds and minutes and hours and days, to whenever Noctis would wake up. _He was losing time_. Those last few minutes he’d spent atop the campsite, reveling in the feeling of the darkness scudding out of his body like clouds vanishing across the horizon of the sky, were the last moments of silence he had.

The daemons were getting louder, and nothing seemed to quiet them any more. They never stopped. They never _stopped_. He would blink and find himself somewhere else entirely, and it was only seconds and breaths but _he was losing time_.

How could you tell someone that you weren’t going to be who you were any more?

But that was for then, for the time when it became a problem. For now, Cor was on his knees between Ardyn’s thighs, and he looked _good_ like that, out of control and willingly so, his high cheekbones flushed and his eyes star-bright. Ardyn was so focused on the slick mouth around the head of his dick, though, that it took an embarrassingly long time for him to figure out what Cor had asked.

“What?” Ardyn said, blinking down at him, his feet sliding out to further sprawl. “Why?”

\--

His breath was uneven, his chest tight as he looked up at the other man, met his amber eyes, slightly dazed from how focused he’d been on the feel of Cor sucking on him, and that was a good thing. That was what he wanted.

Reaching up, he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock and licked at the head, pressed his tongue against the slit.

“Because,” he said against the head of Ardyn’s cock, eyes half closed. “I want to spend the rest of your days together. With you.” He had a feeling Ardyn would refuse. Yet, he asked anyway. It was worth posing the question, he thought. Worth handing him the offer now, to accept at his leisure. He wrapped his lips around the head of his cock again, sucked on him gently, and stroked his length slowly with his fingers.

\--

Ardyn groaned, scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, as Cor tightened the fingers around the base of his cock and licked at the slit again, making a wet noise bottle up in the base of Ardyn’s throat. “Cor,” it came out more as a whine than he’d wanted it to, petulant and a little bit childish, “You’re making it hard to have a proper conversation.” It was really hard to concentrate on anything that Cor was saying when he kept sucking on the head of Ardyn’s dick. But it was even _harder_ to concentrate on that with Cor’s words about spending the rest of their days together hanging over him, and Ardyn huffed, melting back into the couch, tangling his fingers in Cor’s hair.

He couldn’t come up with a way to articulate an answer that wasn’t dragging Cor halfway down his dick, so Ardyn settled for doing just that. The other man had been teasing him long enough that his patience was wearing thin, and he arched his hips up off of the couch to push his cock deeper into Cor’s mouth. “Did you just decide this _right now_?”

\--

He liked the way Ardyn said his name, whining, a little desperate, irritated. Cor hummed around the head of his cock. He knew it was difficult to talk, like this, but aside from the fact that he’d just been thinking about it, there really was no better time to pose the question. In any other situation, Ardyn would have turned him down immediately, based on whatever sorry excuse he could come up with.

Ardyn’s fingers tangled into his hair, and Cor licked at the underside, parting his lips further as Ardyn dragged him down. He didn’t mind so much, just settled in with the head of Ardyn’s cock pressed against the roof of his mouth and hummed quietly, closing his eyes. He knew the other man was getting impatient, of course he was. Cor sighed through his nose, pressed his tongue against the underside of his cock and sucked on him gently.

When Ardyn arched in deeper, he swallowed, and took more of him in voluntarily, until his lips met his fingers. He looked up at him where he was sprawled, all flushed and gorgeous above him, and he was perfectly content, there on his knees for his King.

He nodded a little at the question, as well as he could with more than half of Ardyn’s cock in his mouth, then added on a slight shrug, dragged his thumb along the vein on the underside and continued sucking slowly on his length.

\--

Cor didn’t go much further, just until the head of Ardyn’s cock was brushing the roof of his mouth, and then hummed, apparently satisfied to stay there, sucking on the tip and humming. Perfectly comfortable. He was going to drive Ardyn mad.

Even when Cor took him just a little further, mouth meeting his hand, Ardyn made a wet, unhappy noise and tightened his fingers in the other man’s hair, glad that he’d grown it out another inch in the last few years. It made it easier to pull him where Ardyn wanted. Frustrated and having a hard time focusing with his concentration being stripped from him out his dick, since the last time he’d had Cor’s mouth on his cock had been all-too-brief and fleeting, Ardyn pushed his hair out of his face and then dug his fingers into the underside of the man’s jaw, to feel the shift of his muscle with his mouth full of Ardyn’s cock. “Is this your attempt at blackmail, Marshal?”

\--

Cor twisted his fingers around the base of the other man’s cock, sucking on him and swallowing around him. He was still out of practice, but Ardyn tasted good on his tongue, heavy and hot, filling his mouth. He knew the other man wanted him to take him in deeper, with all those quiet unhappy sounds he was letting out, tugging on his hair. Fingers pressed to his jaw and Cor swallowed around his cock.

It hadn’t originally been intentional blackmail. Now maybe it was, a little bit. Though, he would have been surprised if Ardyn actually agreed to it. He smiled a little around his cock, breathing slowly through his nose, and looked up at him, raised his eyebrows. Then he shifted his hand back a little and took him just an inch deeper, moaning quietly around him.

\--

“Fuck,” it was punched out of him, a low breath ragged in his chest. Cor smiled up at him, blue eyes twinkling, and sank another inch further down, and Ardyn gave up on articulating how displeased he was with the idea of having to find a way to say _no_ to something he actually really wanted with his dick halfway into another man’s mouth, Cor moaning around him like this was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Looking down at Cor through half-lidded eyes, panting, Ardyn tugged on the hair at the back of his neck. He hadn’t forgotten how Cor had reacted when he’d praised him for how well he’d taken cock that night at the campsite; or all the times before where he’d gotten going twice as fast from Ardyn just complimenting him. “You like that?” He murmured, trying not to think about what it would be like to spend his nights with Cor, listening to his heartbeat. “You look good on your knees. You always have.”

\--

Ardyn tugged on his hair, cursing and panting, and Cor finally closed his eyes to focus on the way he felt and tasted. As soon as Ardyn started speaking to him again, he felt himself flush, felt his cock throb in his trousers, and he melted down a little towards him and groaned.

He did like the way it felt to have the other man’s cock in his mouth, liked being on his knees, and when Ardyn complimented him he shifted, his erection aching, leaking a little, and he pulled his hand away to let Ardyn slide deeper, down his throat. He nodded, as much as he could around him, moaned again and breathed slow and steady through his nose, finally taking in more and more of him until he’d swallowed him up to the base, panting around his cock, fingers curled against Ardyn’s thighs. He could feel the head pressing against the back of his throat and he was so full and felt so good he nearly forgot about what he’d asked him for a moment. He wished he could have begged, like that, as he pressed his forehead to the other man’s stomach and let himself adjust.

\--

Cor hardly needed the encouragement. In fact, he went down without Ardyn coaxing him any further, his jaw open wide and the wet heat of his tongue sliding down the underside of Ardyn’s cock, until his forehead was pressed to the base of Ardyn’s stomach. He curled a hand around the back of the other man’s neck, lashes fluttering, and let out a shaky sigh. “Don’t forget to breathe,” Ardyn mumbled, an odd request from him of all people, and he thumbed the base of Cor’s skull, coaxed him on without words.

“Last time you couldn’t swallow,” Ardyn continued, slurred and loose-lipped as he rolled up into the back of Cor’s throat, chasing the afterthought of his orgasm, building inside him. “Think you can properly this time?”

\--

Ardyn reminded him to breathe and he breathed, slow and even through his nose. The other man’s fingers were at the back of his neck, rubbing at the base of his skull, soothing and encouraging, and Cor moaned again, quietly. It was difficult, keeping him there, Ardyn’s cock shoved up against the back of his throat, his mouth so full it was hard to breathe or think or do anything. He was so hard his cock ached from lack of friction, and Ardyn was so hot against his tongue. The other man kept rolling his hips up against him, pressing on the roof of his mouth, on his throat, sliding against his tongue, and Cor groaned helplessly. He loved it, though, loved it more than he thought he would. There was something utterly blissful about sucking his cock and listening to his quiet, slurred words, praising him and encouraging him. More than that, it was the overwhelming feeling that he was pleasing the man he’d chosen as his King. He always felt that way, it was just more prominent now than before. Something about being on his knees, and having Ardyn halfway down his throat.

He hummed around him in the affirmative when Ardyn asked, swallowed around his cock and took him in just a little deeper, until he really did have his nose shoved into his red curls as much as he possibly could. He remembered vaguely, the last time, pulling back and choking, but he wanted to swallow everything he released this time, he really did, and he wanted to do it well. He could. He was out of practice but determined and that had to count for _something_. So, he encouraged him in return, sucking and swallowing around him, content to let Ardyn fuck his throat as much as he liked.

\--

If Ardyn had come untouched for Cor on his knees once, years before, Cor looked like he was about to follow in his footsteps right here, right now. His lips stretched wide around Ardyn’s shaft, nose to the base of his stomach, high cheekbones flushed and lashes half-mast over his terrible blue eyes. If Ardyn had been in his place, Cor would have already fucked his throat to bruising, but Ardyn was far less likely to take long-term damage from it. Cor was so much more _breakable_. And, at the moment, so much more _wanting_ , moaning around Ardyn’s length and pinning his hips to the couch.

“Just like that,” he whispered, dragging the other man closer by the back of the head, fucking up into his mouth, eyes closing. “You feel so good.” Hot and wet, on his knees, willing and wanting. Cor would give up anything for him. Eyes still closed, Ardyn tugged Cor closer, even if he couldn’t go any further, orgasm building at the base of his stomach, low in the heart of him.

“Would you kneel for me in front of everyone?”

\--

Ardyn coaxed him on, dragging him closer, fucking up into his mouth and Cor just let him, swallowing around him. He didn’t even try to keep the other man’s hips still, just held on, moaning, and let Ardyn get all the friction and heat he needed. His heart was pounding in his chest, all of him hot, and his cock nearly hurt from how hard it was. He rolled his hips, too, even without anything there to rub himself against, panting around Ardyn’s length.

He made a quiet sound at the compliment, closed his eyes and sucked on him harder as Ardyn tried to pull him closer, his face shoved up against the base of the other man’s stomach and it really was hard to breathe, but as long as he could focus on that and keep himself from choking on his cock, he didn’t mind it at all, liked letting Ardyn use his throat like that. He could feel the other man leaking, too, and he curled his fingers tighter against Ardyn’s thighs, gasping as well as he could. He almost felt like he could come untouched like that, and he jerked his hips harder.

And then Ardyn asked him, asked him if he would kneel for him, in front of everyone, and at that thought he felt hotter than he ever remembered, baking in his clothes, and sobbed around his cock. He would. He _knew_ he would. Kneel, bow, grovel at his feet, show everyone where his allegiance lied now. With the rightful King, Crystal be damned. _His_ King. And he wanted to say, _Yes, Your Majesty_ , but instead, he sobbed quietly again and rolled his hips, and leaned forward into him like all the breath had been knocked out of him, and if he could have bowed lower, despite the man’s cock in his mouth and the edge of the couch in the way, he would have.

\--

Cor moaned, wanting, and didn’t stop Ardyn from fucking his face. It was all the encouragement that he needed to actually slide deeper into the man’s throat, take his pleasure on Cor’s willing body. It was an idle thought as to if Cor could come untouched like that, but he probably could. He seemed almost like he wanted to, moaning in little ragged breaths and tilting forward toward Ardyn like a magnet to its lodestone. And the prospect of kneeling before everyone left him shaking, fingers trembling against Ardyn’s skin.

He tried to speak but all that came out was muffled hopeless hoarse noises, caught vibrating against the head of Ardyn’s cock, and _bowed_.

Ardyn knotted his fingers into the other man’s hair, hung on at the back of his neck, and jerked his hips up, slamming his dick into Cor’s mouth as he came from the image alone, Cor bowing in fealty with Ardyn’s cock in his mouth, sweat damp on his red forehead and nothing but agony and longing on his face, a bottled up whine in the back of Ardyn’s throat as he shuddered hard through spilling, teeth clenched. He shakily moved his foot to dig his socked toes into Cor’s cock, grinding them over the head even as he kept the other man trapped at the base of his erection, not letting up or letting him go or letting him _breathe_ until he was done, come dripping out the edges of the other man’s mouth as Ardyn finally let him go, his softening dick sliding down out his abuse-red lips.

\--

Ardyn’s fingers twisted tighter into his hair, hanging onto him as he shoved his cock hard into Cor’s mouth and came in long, hot spurts down his throat. Cor gasped, tilting his head up a little to make it easier as he swallowed everything the other man spilled. It tasted hot and salty, and he only coughed a little bit, the sound muffled by Ardyn’s cock, but it was good, so, so good, and with the way Ardyn was holding him there, using him as much as he wanted, he couldn’t have pulled back if he’d tried. He loved that, too, loved his King holding him there, forcing him to swallow it all.

Cor rolled his hips forward, sobbing quietly again, and he was so sure he might come untouched just from the feel of Ardyn choking him on his cock and the idea of kneeling for him and professing his allegiance to his King in public. When Ardyn pressed his foot between his thighs, up against his aching erection, his eyes went wide and he let out a strangled groan. He jerked once against that touch, getting just a taste of sweet, beautiful friction, and came, hard in his trousers, gasping with Ardyn’s cock still down his throat and with Ardyn’s come on his lips as the other man rode out his orgasm in his mouth, fingers trembling in his hair, until he’d released every last drop down his throat.

Dazed, Cor moaned quietly, and when Ardyn let him go, he pulled back, panting. He stopped when he’d pulled off his cock, licked the head gently and then his lips, swallowing a few more times. Slowly, he let go of Ardyn’s trousers, and sat back on his heels, slumping and pressing his face against the inside of the other man’s knee. His jaw ached and his throat hurt, but that didn’t matter so much. He could still taste Ardyn vibrantly on his tongue and his entire body still humming from the force of his own orgasm. Despite the near lack of friction, he felt wonderfully satisfied, but he was too worn out to move or speak. He just wanted to stay there, kneeling for him as he caught his breath.

\--

Cor came, moaning, with Ardyn’s toes squeezing the tip of his cock through his slacks, his whole body locked up tight and overwrought. “Just like that, Marshal,” Ardyn murmured, fingers curled over the back of his neck. “You look good like that.” Next time, he would have to pull out first, come on Cor’s face.

He almost wished he hadn’t been glamoured still. Cor with black come on his face would have been—

Ardyn just let out a shaky, ragged breath, and tried not to think too hard about that. Just let Cor slump down on the floor, curled into him as a tight ball, needy and worn-out, and shifted forward to smooth the hair out of his face, to wipe the sweat from his brow. In the low apartment light, his hair was almost entirely grey, the lines sagging beside his eyes and mouth.

“Cor,” Ardyn began at last, his voice hoarse, as he felt the other man curl more into him, lean against him, Ardyn his rock in a storm, “Do you want _me_ to live with you, or do you want me to live with you and wear a different face?”

\--

Ardyn muttered encouraging words to him, praised him quietly, and Cor was more than grateful for it. That was all he needed, and he let himself relax as Ardyn ran affectionate fingers through his hair. He was slowly becoming coherent again as he caught his breath, the warmth of the afterglow washing over him. Coherent enough to think, to speak, finally.

Gently, he curled his fingers against the other man’s leg, leaning more into him, and looked up at him. “Ardyn,” he muttered, frowning a little, and softened. “Of course I want you. You, as you are.” He sighed. “I like all of your faces but I love you, your true self, the most, no matter what you look like at the time. The man who is my King. That’s the one I want.” His words were a bit tired, a little slurred, and betrayed more affection than he normally would have wanted to admit, but it was the truth.

\--

Cor’s response was soft and heartfelt, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. It was as surefire a way of avoiding the question as Ardyn himself might have used, and he tucked his softening dick away into his trousers and leaned forward on the couch, the gentle touch of his hand in Cor’s hair turning into a brutal twist of his fingers at the nape of the other man’s neck, dragging his head back. Ardyn sneered down at him, tired but furious. “That wasn’t what I asked you,” he snarled. “Do you want me here so you can have _Ardyn_ here, and call me that in front of everyone else, or are you going to ask me to lie for you around the clock? You can’t have both, Cor.” He let the other man go and slid out from around him on the couch, picking his coat up from where it was hanging off the bedpost and throwing it back on, fixing it to lay flat.

“You can’t demand I tell you the truth and keep begging me to be someone else just so you can spend more time with me.”

\--

Ardyn twisted his fingers tight into his hair suddenly and Cor clenched his jaw, frowning up at him. He was not pleased, clearly. And it was true, they’d never actually talked about Ardyn’s other persona, about Altum, after their first argument. Cor had assumed, since he went with it, that the matter was resolved, but apparently not.

When Ardyn got up and threw his coat on, Cor pulled himself up onto the couch, leaning back against the cushions, still worn and wanting anything but to argue. The tone the other man used, though, left him too grumpy and irritated, startled out of the soothing feeling of the afterglow, even if he was the one who’d started this conversation in the first place.

“So _now_ you care so much about telling everyone the truth,” he ground out, “when you lied to me for months after we met, when you lied to everyone, when all you ever did was lie. You withheld _everything_ from me and I had to find out from some old documents we dug up.” He coughed a little, his voice still too hoarse to really shout, and it hurt to raise his voice, but he was trying anyway. “ _Now_ you want me to give up _everything_ I have here for you so you don’t have to lie, when lying to them for a little while so that we can be together here is harmless. It’s because it’s what I want, isn’t it? And it isn’t _convenient_ enough for you. You don’t care about what’s best for me, do you? You never have. You can’t ever be anything but selfish.”

\--

“Well,” Ardyn snapped back, one hand on his hip as he rounded on Cor, who was going off on him with his voice still sounding well-fucked, “You never _asked_ did you?” He said that like he would have told Cor if Cor had asked. He wouldn’t have, of course. Ardyn was nothing if not a consummate liar extraordinaire. “You never came right out and said _Ardyn, are you or are you not the ancient undying King cursed to live forever until some jumped-up kid can come and brutally murder you_!”

He was raising his voice, and the walls were thin. He dropped it back down.

“I never said that,” he snarled back, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “And don’t you go telling me that I never care about the best for you. For the genocidal destroyer of worlds and bringer of endless night I sure have been saving a lot of people’s lives lately, mostly _for you_.” Cor and Iris could both have easily died against the Naga and Yojimbo, but he had stepped in.

“You just have this perfect image in your head that I can do anything I want.” Ardyn walked over and leaned his good leg on top of Cor’s on the couch, pinning him down with all his weight on that knee, no doubt bruising his thigh. “That I can go about doing whatever, being _whoever_ , like it’s as easy as breathing. You keep relying on me to clean up all your precious problems, like I’m your malevolent fairy godmother.” Ardyn sneered. “If anybody here is being selfish, it’s _you_ , Marshal. I don’t want the slightest thing to do with living with you. We aren’t some domestic couple, destined to live together till mortal death do us part.”

\--

Cor grunted under his breath. From what he remembered, he’d asked him plenty of questions Ardyn hadn’t answered until much later, but that was hardly the point, anyway and he was _trying_ to keep himself from losing his temper more than he already had. Ardyn wasn’t helping, neither was the fact that he was right, on some points, neither was the other man pinning him to the couch, digging into his thigh.

“That’s because you never tell me _anything_ ,” he said, frustrated. “We never _talked_ about Altum you just… _did it_. You’ll never tell me what’s impossible for you and what isn’t, I have no idea what you’re capable of! I can’t read your mind, Ardyn. I only asked what I thought was reasonable.” Ardyn wouldn’t even tell him what had been wrong lately, and he _knew_ something was wrong. “If you don’t want to live with me, fine, just say it. It’s not that hard.” He scowled at him. “Maybe I am being selfish, maybe I was selfish to ask you, but I’ve nearly lost everything and everyone I already cared about and I know I’m going to lose you, too. I don’t give a damn about being domestic I just want to make the most of what little time we have left. Is that too hard for you to understand?”

\--

Ardyn jerked away from Cor and snarled back, the heat of the moment overtaking his better thoughts, his self control— “Did you ever consider that you keep begging me for _more time_ and every moment I’m here, using my magic to save you, changing faces for you, it’s another bit of _my_ sanity down the drain? I’ve precious little of it left, Cor!”

He closed his mouth so fast that the click of his teeth shutting was loud in the dead silence that resulted in the apartment.

Ardyn froze, like a daemon in the headlights, staring down at Cor, and rather than follow that comment up he just _left_ as fast as he could, teleporting out of Lestallum faster than you could blink and landing back in the throne in Insomnia like he’d never left.

\--

Cor narrowed his eyes at him, leaning forward a little as the other man jerked back, looking up at him. He just stared at him, unsure what to say. “Ardyn,” he began, starting to stand, and the other man looked back at him and then, just like that, vanished.

“Ardyn!” Cor shouted as he disappeared. “That’s… important, Ardyn. Ardyn!” He stood, shouting into his apartment like the other man could still hear him, even though he was, undoubtedly, already back in Insomnia. “Come back here and talk to me!”

Of course, he was met with only silence, and he collapsed back onto the couch, tired and frustrated and _worried_. What did that even mean? Were the daemons getting to him? But after two thousand years, could it really change so much in a few years time? He didn’t know. And there was nothing he could do. He wasn’t going to go to Insomnia after him, that was pointless. All he could do was wait for him to have his sulk and inevitably come back, however long that took.


	14. so what do i do with this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor tore the shower curtain back, hand out to turn on the water, and startled half out of his skin as he looked down and found Ardyn crouched, naked and miserable, staining his tub.
> 
> Ardyn glowered balefully up at him, his hair dripping over his eyes, and sighed, blowing it off of where it was stuck, soaking, to his face. “What does it _look_ like, Marshal? I’m scheming for world domination.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [vienna teng's "stray italian greyhound"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLySk3i4dFI)

If there was anything in the world Ardyn was good at, it was having a good disgusting sulk. He could sulk like nobody’s business, and he did, trashing parts of Insomnia that weren’t already a wreck, finishing some of his touches on the throne room. The bodies hadn’t exactly been easy to get, and artfully arranging them like a tableaux of Noctis’ greatest failures was an exercise in precision.

It was halfway through that emphatic sulk that Ardyn blacked out, and woke up standing on the floor of the throne room with old, rotten blood coating both his hands up to the wrists, and four individual eyeballs scattered at his feet—two ice-blue, Aldercapts. And two, grey-green as old foliage. The same colour as Ardyn’s father’s had been.

Regis.

The last he remembered before had been sitting on the throne, sulking, staring out the shattered-in window of the throne room at the endless dark above, and now he was here, covered in blood, with the hot pulse at the back of his skull and the whispers in his head of _do it again make them something awful get your revenge_ —

He was losing time. He was losing time, and now, he was losing control as well.

\--

He waited, half expecting Ardyn to turn up a few days later. But, he didn’t. Normally it wouldn’t have bothered him but, they’d parted on such bad terms, and after what Ardyn had said… he worried.

Monica picked up on it. Of course she did. She asked him what was wrong, and he told the truth as well as he could. Altum wasn’t feeling very well, he was worried, and he didn’t let her push the topic any more than that. Illness in Lestallum wasn’t uncommon. And there were only so many doctors to treat the sick, so it was reasonable enough.

He tried to distract himself, organizing hunts with Iris, and every evening returned to find the apartment empty, just as it had been when he’d left. Leaving that conversation without any kind of resolution for days on end was more painful, distracting and frustrating than he wanted to admit. He was starting to wish that he’d never asked Ardyn to stay with him. At least then, he wouldn’t have thrown a fit, and they could have just kept going as they were.

He could have texted him, or called him. But, he didn’t. When Ardyn came back, he wanted it to be on the other man’s own terms, not his.

\--

In the end, he hadn’t known what to do. Centuries ago, before they had named him Accursed and banished him from the line of succession, thrown him out among the refuse in the street, he’d had similar experiences. But he’d all-but gotten them under control through the years except for the constant intrusive thoughts foisted on him by the daemons in his head. Those were easy enough to ignore, and he went about his life as if they weren’t there unless they were something important, which they rarely were.

This was different. This wasn’t a few lost seconds, staring into space, or a few minutes realising he was standing doing nothing. This was—minutes, doing something he’d never meant to do—

He panicked, which was how Ardyn had ended up naked in Cor’s shower with the water turned on all the way to scalding, scrubbing his hands and forearms with his glamour off until his too-pale skin was raw and cracking with black blood and he didn’t have anything caught under his nails any more. Then, miserable, Ardyn hunched over in the shower with the water off, damp and shivering and too depressed to even get up and put his pants back on, ichor puddling in the water on the tub floor.

\--

Every day when Cor got home he went through the same routine, more or less. He stripped off his coat and boots and set his sword aside. He searched the apartment, briefly, for Ardyn, though Ardyn was never there, not lately. If he hadn’t had Ardyn’s hat hanging in his closet, he would have thought the other man was gone for sure this time. Then, he went to the bedroom and stripped down to his boxers to prepare to take a shower, to wash off all the sweat before he settled in for the evening.

When he stepped into the bathroom this particular day, he shuffled about, frowned at himself in the mirror, at how tired he looked from lack of sleep the past week or so, rubbed at his beard, and threw the shower curtain aside to turn the water on.

He startled immediately, gasping under his breath and tensing as he looked down at the man—Ardyn, hunched over and wet, with all his glamours off, dripping black.

“Ardyn,” he got out after a moment, surprised, startled, but as that passed over him, even more worried than he’d been before. He was as unpredictable as ever, but he looked even more a mess than usual, and that was saying something. Cor didn’t even have to ask if everything was alright. He knew it wasn’t. “What are you doing in my shower?” he blurted instead, still staring at him.

\--

He heard Cor when the other man came back, and fully expected to be confronted and forced into a yelling match where they’d left off before, but no such thing happened. Ardyn had dumped his clothes—except for his gloves, which were with him in the shower, the leather slick with water and soap—on his side of the bed, and apparently Cor didn’t notice because minutes later the bathroom door opened and then Cor tore the shower curtain back, hand out to turn on the water, and startled half out of his skin as he looked down and found Ardyn crouched, naked and miserable, staining his tub.

Ardyn glowered balefully up at him, his hair dripping over his eyes, and sighed, blowing it off of where it was stuck, soaking, to his face. “What does it _look_ like, Marshal? I’m scheming for world domination.”

\--

Ardyn looked up at him, hair dripping wet, plastered to his face, all naked except for his gloves for… some reason. Cor frowned at him. “Ardyn,” he said, carefully. “Something’s wrong.” He met his eyes, glowing amber amid the black sclera. He’d still only seen him like this the one time Ardyn had willingly shown him and never since. Until now. “Tell me.” He said it firm but as gentle as he could, because he _was_ worried. “And don’t try to skirt around it. Tell me the truth.”

\--

“No shit,” Ardyn spat back, a little bit harsher than he needed to, but he was wet and cold and pathetic, and there was something hot and violent like guilt roiling in the pit of his stomach because of what he had done to the bodies.

He shifted slightly, and sighed, rubbing the bare heels of his palms over his eyes, dragging fingers back through his thick hair, the black tear-like streaks from his eyes leaving lines over his face and hands. “It doesn’t matter now.”

\--

Cor sighed quietly, looking down at him. He really was a disaster, and apparently intent on sitting there and being miserable and cold until Cor dragged him out. He opened up the nearby cabinet, pulled out a spare towel and a washcloth, wet the cloth at the sink and sat down on the edge of the tub, handing it to him. “Clean yourself up a little,” he muttered. From what he could tell, the black leaking didn’t ever really _stop_ , but at least he could mop up some of the streaks. He wrapped the towel around his shoulders like he used to do for Talcott sometimes when he’d lived with them in Caem, before he grew old enough to refuse any help other than Monica’s.

Gently, he pushed Ardyn’s hair back out of his face, wrung it out at the ends, and rubbed it as dry as he could on the edge of the towel. “Come on,” he said. “Get up. Unless you want me to carry you.”

\--

Cor shoved a wash cloth at him and Ardyn took it, grumbling. “There’s no point,” he grouched, since it would be making a mess until it dried, but he did as Cor asked anyway and wiped the worst of the tar streaks off of his face and his chest, until the cloth was sticky and tacky with it. Cor wrapped a towel around his shoulders and Ardyn grumbled. He didn’t need to be babied.

Cor dried his hair as Ardyn pressed his face into his knees, and sighed. He still felt dirty, still felt like there was viscera under his short fingernails. “I can do it myself,” he grumbled, and stood carefully, drying off his legs and arms before he wrapped back up in the towel again and finally climbed out of the shower. “I’ll go get dressed while you shower.” Ardyn continued, nudging past Cor, trying to both avoid human contact and to avoid having to have a conversation.

\--

Ardyn grumbled at him but still did as he said, wiping himself off. At the least, his insistence on getting him out of the shower encouraged him enough that he stood up and dried himself off, then climbed out, very obviously avoiding him.

“All right,” he said, and stared at him, hard. “Ardyn. Don’t disappear on me, or I swear to the Astrals I will drive to Insomnia and find you. I won’t take long.” He watched him, concerned and wary, for a moment longer, then finally turned the water back on, rinsed out the tub, pulled his boxers off and got in, scrubbing himself and his hair as quickly as he could. The shower was stained with black, but he didn’t really care. He could wash out the rest of that later on.

\--

Ardyn waved lazily. “I didn’t come all the way here just to leave again.” As soon as Cor had climbed properly into the shower, Ardyn finished drying himself off more through muscle memory than anything, wringing his hair out, and then went rooting through Cor’s closet, looking for something to wear. He ended up coming up with an undershirt and a pair of his own boxers, made a cup of tea in the other man’s kitchen, then settled curled up in their bed like an angry wet cat. He nursed the cup unhappily and took the entire time Cor was washing to put his face back on, found it sat oddly out-of-place over his actual skin.

\--

When he was done washing, he stepped out, dried himself off, and wrapped the towel around his waist out of habit. He combed his hair briefly and stepped back out into the bedroom. Ardyn, at the least, had put on some clothes—one of Cor’s old undershirts—made himself some tea, and climbed into bed. He’d put his glamor back on, too, though he looked extremely unhappy.

Cor sighed, relieved at least that he’d managed that much, and pulled his own clothes on, just new underwear and his trousers and a shirt that wasn’t his uniform shirt. He tried to think how best to even start the conversation as he put his towel back in the bathroom and then, a little awkwardly, slid into bed beside him, pulling the blankets up over his lap and leaning back against his pillow. He always slept on one side of the bed, now. The other, even though Ardyn wasn’t there most nights, he felt had been claimed by the other man. And he didn’t mind in the least.

“Ardyn,” he said after a moment, gentle and quiet. “I know you think it doesn’t matter. But it matters to me. Please. Tell me what happened.”

\--

When Cor came out, he dressed and finally put his towel away, Ardyn handing his off to go with it before the other man joined him in bed, as unsure as Ardyn himself felt. They didn’t touch, just sat as far apart on the mattress as they could as Ardyn tried to come up with words.

Cor beat him to the punch, and he laughed, ragged. “You don’t want to know,” Ardyn settled on, not looking at the other man. “And I’m not saying that because I don’t want to tell you. You...really. You don’t want to know, Cor.” Regis’ empty eye sockets, his father’s eyes on the floor, came to mind. How had that somehow lasted through all these generations?

“I...blacked out.” That was the simplest way to put it. Ardyn scrubbed a hand over his still-damp face. “I’ve been losing time. Always just a few seconds, or minutes, when it all gets to be too much.” He realised as he was explaining that he wasn’t giving Cor any information, but he didn’t even know where to _start_. “Never mind.”

\--

When Ardyn said he didn’t want to know, Cor looked at him, furrowed his brow. With him that could mean… anything. But, it sounded bad. Like, killed someone he hadn’t meant to bad, or worse. Cor frowned. “All right…,” he said, unsure. Well. Maybe if it was that bad, he was better off not knowing the details, as long as he understood more or less.

Ardyn tried to explain, in fragments, and Cor just frowned more in confusion, trying to put the pieces together. At last, when Ardyn brushed it off, frustrated, Cor reached over and touched his elbow. “No,” he muttered. “It’s fine. You’re doing fine. Keep going. You’ve been blacking out temporarily…” And the way Ardyn was speaking, that wasn’t normal for him at all. “How long has this been going on? Is it getting worse?”

\--

Cor touched his elbow gently, trying to reassure him. He stared down into the tea, let it warm his hands, and tried to think of how to explain it. He didn’t even want to drink it, but a hot mug of tea had been what he’d had on the road, so many years ago, when he’d first started collapsing after healing. Izunia would push it into his hands, tell him to drink.

It was funny, what stuck with you. (Not really.)

“It started—before. After healing, I would sometimes just stop responding for a few seconds, or minutes. But that was different. I still knew what was going on around me. I just had to parse through all the daemons. They aren’t destroyed, burned out, like the Oracles did. _That_ was an invention of the Astrals, after my Fall.” Ardyn rubbed his forehead. “They’re all still here, in me. And sometimes, they take over.” It had only ever been a few seconds, maybe a few minutes at most. He usually struggled control back and found himself trapped somewhere odd. He’d fallen down holes before, driven his car off of the road once or twice. They’d never had an easy target, before.

This time they had.

“Dying, using magic, all of it takes energy. Not the same as it did for the Lucian line after me, as I share the Blessing of Light—whatever good it has done me—with Noct. But it does drain me, and it is a finite source. I’m losing control of the daemons inside me, Cor. They know Noctis is coming back.” Their whispers, especially the oldest of them, hissed in his ears as he said it. There was a tremble, deep inside him. “I am afraid that they and I have rather different definitions of how we want this to end. They want to live, and I...want to die.” The daemons had very little interest in going quietly into the coming sunrise, and Ardyn had had to take an iron grip on them to let it happen. But somehow, he doubted it would get any easier.

\--

With the gentle encouragement, Ardyn kept talking. About the daemons inside him. About blacking out. Losing control. Cor frowned. “Then, that’s why…” he began, and trailed off. It was why Ardyn had insisted so thoroughly that Noctis be prepared. It was why he’d resisted using his magic as much as he could. It was what he’d meant, about losing his sanity. “Hmm.” He frowned. “I see. That… makes sense.”

He stared at Ardyn’s tea, too, then looked up at his face, squeezed his elbow. He took a deep breath. It was hard, to figure out what to even say to all of that. “I’m sorry I… pushed that on you. Altum, I mean.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know. But I did tell Monica and the others that you’ve been ill lately, so, you don’t have to see them any more if you don’t want to. Just me. And you know that…” He leaned forward a little, searched his eyes as though he could see the daemons inside him and personally challenge them. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that at the end of all of this, you get to rest. No matter what I have to do.”

\--

Ardyn huffed a laugh. “It was nice,” he admitted after a moment. “To be able to be around your family. I wish I could do it as myself.” Was it worth the risk to wear another face? As it turned out, it was. But there was no way for him to tell Cor that. When the other man looked at him, searching for something that Ardyn knew not what, he sighed.

It was strange, how romantic someone pledging to make sure you died could be, in the right circumstances. But then again, Ardyn was himself more than a little strange. “Does....” he tasted the word softly against his lips, “Your offer still stand?”

\--

Cor just nodded a little. “I wish that, too.” More than anything, he wished Ardyn could be around his family as himself. That… was a dream that would never be reality, but a pleasant dream nonetheless. To have them all together, to have his friends accept Ardyn as much as he did.

When Ardyn asked him, though, about his offer, Cor blinked at him, surprised at first. “You mean… to stay with me?” he asked. “Of course. Of course it does.”

\--

“You seem startled, Marshal.” Maybe this was a bad idea, but then again,what in the last five years _hadn’t_ been a bad idea? “You’re well within your rights to say no. Astrals know I’ve given you little reason to want me here of late.” But Cor was stupid, and loyal to a fault, and unwilling to let Ardyn go.

“I don’t know if I should stay alone,” Ardyn admitted, the words heavy on his tongue, far more open than he liked to be. “If it happens again. If it gets worse—I would want someone there to make sure I don’t hurt anyone.”

\--

“No,” Cor said, shaking his head a little. “Not startled because I don’t want you, I just… thought you wouldn’t want to. I thought you were still angry at me.” He smiled. “Of course you’re welcome to stay with me. I want you to.”

And his reasoning, though unfortunate, made sense. Cor’s worry for him was what had spurred him to ask him to stay in the first place. “You’re right. It will be better if we stay together. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.” He slid his palm up the other man’s arm, took his hand and tangled their fingers together. He knew it must be hard, too, for Ardyn to speak like this. Most likely, he’d never had anyone to open up to, in all the years he’d been alive.

“Thank you,” he muttered, kissing the backs of the other man’s knuckles. “For telling me. I’ll do everything I can to help you. To make it easier.”

\--

He hated putting Cor in this place; making him responsible for this. “Thank you,” Ardyn settled on, rather than try to parse that too far open. Touched, Ardyn curled around him, face pressed into Cor’s bicep, and sighed, closed his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to,” he murmured. “I don’t know what it is you see in me that has made you this loyal.” He didn’t deserve it in the slightest. Not from a man as good as Cor Leonis.

\--

Ardyn moved towards him, tucked up next to him, and Cor pressed his face into the other man’s hair, sighing quietly. “I want to,” he muttered. Maybe he shouldn’t have to but. He’d dedicated himself to Ardyn, and he loved him, and he had no intention of leaving him to deal with his daemons on his own.

He hummed quietly, thoughtful. “You wanted me when no one else did,” he muttered. “And we’ve both been too lonely for too long. Seems only right, that we would need each other. And you…” he pressed his face more into the other man’s hair. “You only ever wanted to do the right thing. I can see that, even if no one else can. Despite some of the things you’ve done, you’re the kind of man I would follow to the ends of the earth.”

\--

Cor curled back into him, face in Ardyn’s thick hair, breath on the side of his neck, and Ardyn let him, let Cor in past his defences, in where he was weak. He gave a weak giggle, and put his tea, starting to cool slightly, onto the bedside table, pressed Cor back and slid over his hips. In a strange reversal, Ardyn was wearing almost nothing, and he pushed his hands to Cor’s chest, rucked his shirt up to dig his fingertips into the muscle and fat of his pecs, watched him. He was nearer to fifty now, every day. Half a century. Old, for a mortal man. Older than Ardyn had ever reached, at least in terms of his actual physical aging.

“You’re soft-hearted,” Ardyn murmured, watching Cor’s eyes, the shift of his dark lashes against the bright, bright blue. His skin had started to lose much of its tan without the sun there to renew it. “Foolish. Hopeful. You’re going to go too close to the fire someday and get burned.” He leaned down to kiss Cor’s lips, soft from the shower. “You’ve sold your soul to a devil, Marshal.” And he wanted to admonish the man, wanted to tell him how dangerous this could be, welcoming in the wolf among the sheep. How very badly they could both get hurt. But for once, he couldn’t prevaricate his way out of it. “And I have never in my life been happier to be sold something.”

\--

Cor smiled quietly into the other man’s hair, breathed him in, and closed his eyes, until Ardyn moved to set his tea aside and straddled his hips, warm hands on his chest, fingers pressing against his muscles. Cor let out a slow breath and looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

It was true. He’d always been soft-hearted. Too bright and hopeful for his own good. He’d just masked it over the years, under layers of skill in combat and a certain standoffishness that tended to drive others away, but more out of respect than anything. Even his friends, he’d felt, had never really known him. He kept secrets from all of them. And then Ardyn had pried him open and lain him bare in a way he never knew he needed, and he’d never been more glad for it.

Still, he was ready for Ardyn to chastise him, to warn him, like he used to, even though Cor had never listened. Though it was a little different now, perhaps, that he knew fully what he’d gotten himself into, and still he continued to willingly stand by the other man. Even now that he knew about the daemons. Now, more than ever.

But, what little gentle scolding Ardyn did give him was more affectionate than anything. Their lips met and Cor kissed him back, leaning up into it. Ardyn’s quiet admission made Cor flush and smile broadly, and he let out a soft, relieved half-laugh under his breath.

He reached up and tangled his finger into the other man’s hair, “I don’t even know what to say,” he muttered against his lips. “I’ve never been so happy.” He dragged him closer to kiss him again, deeper, like he needed him to breathe, like he never wanted to let go.

\--

Cor leaned up into him, kissed him like water in the desert, and when he smiled he looked ten years younger, _lighter_ , like all the anguish and weight that had been hanging from his neck for the time that Ardyn had known him was just gone. There was something profoundly humbling about that. That _Ardyn_ , who had never gone unpunished for a single good thing he’d done in his life, could somehow still bring that expression to another person’s face.

Rather than try to respond to Cor, Ardyn just rolled more over him, kissed him sure and strong, and shifted his legs until their hips were aligned and he made a quiet noise low in the back of his throat as their cocks bumped up against one another, neither of them hard yet but the _promise_ there. Cor’s hand tangled in his hair kept him from straightening, so Ardyn just kept kissing the other man, popped the button and fly on his slacks, and sat up just far enough to pull them down past the bottoms of his boxers, to slide his fingers in to pull out his soft dick, warm in Ardyn’s hand, even as he fumbled to get his own out, tugging his waistband down to hook under his balls.

“So,” Ardyn murmured into Cor’s lips, as he started to stroke the other man to hardness, fingers tight around his base, letting his cock fill up his fist, “You’re living in sin now, Marshal.”

\--

Ardyn moved over him, kissed him more, and Cor leaned into it, letting out a quiet, happy hum. It was deep and hard and everything he needed, and then Ardyn shifted their hips together and he sighed at the way their cocks pressed against each other. There was a little tingling in the pit of his stomach at the feel of their hips pressed together like that, a welcome familiarity to it. He’d never felt so warm and at home as he did there, with the two of them aligned and kissing like they were starving.

Cor just kept his fingers tangled into his hair, held him close, and slid his other hand up beneath the thin undershirt Ardyn was wearing, to press his palm against his skin, slip his fingers under the waistband of his boxers. He lifted his hips for Ardyn to pull his trousers down, letting out a shaky breath into their kisses as he felt Ardyn’s fingers on his dick, pulling it out from his boxers and into the warmth of his palm. He pulled his own out, too, and Cor could feel it against him, and tugged the waistband of Ardyn’s boxers down further, reaching around to cup the curve of his ass.

His breath was all caught in his chest, letting it out slow as Ardyn started to stroke him. He rolled his hips into that touch, leaning up to kiss him again, let out a quiet, amused breath and smiled against his lips. “What do you mean,” he asked, “living in sin?”

\--

Cor dragged him over by his hair and got a hand into the waistband of his boxers, squeezed the cheek of Ardyn’s ass. Not tonight, though. Tonight Ardyn wanted to feel them both in hand, messy and stupid and starving. Cor was getting hard, nudging against him, thickening between his fingers, and he stroked the other man again, base of his palm gliding over the slick head of the other man’s dick.

“Living with a man you’re fucking out of wedlock,” Ardyn replied, grinding his own half-hard cock against Cor’s. Cor had such a nice penis; it was long and full but not _wide_ , just thick enough, cut and curving up in just the right way that when he fucked Ardyn face-to-face it dug just shy of too hard into his prostate, covered in thick curls at the base, with a vein almost as wide as Ardyn’s pinky on the bottom. He loved it. “Sin.”

\--

In all their time together, Ardyn had never stroked him quite like this, his fingers sliding along his length, palm rubbing against the head. It was completely different than when he stroked himself off in his own hand. Ardyn’s touch was warm and welcome. The other man stroked him just right, and he rocked his hips up into his hand.

“Out of wedlock,” he muttered against his lips, suddenly breathless, his chest too tight, and entirely unsure what to make of that comment. His cheeks flushed and he was smiling, disbelieving, almost. He tugged gently on Ardyn’s hair, combed his fingers through his waves. Their cocks pressed together and he hardly knew what to do with himself, with the way Ardyn was grinding against him. It was all heat, messy friction and underlying desperation, and somehow so much more intimate than any sex they’d had before. Just the two of them, like this, Ardyn’s hardening cock naked against his, and it felt _perfect_. He didn’t even dare touch either of them yet. He was enjoying the feeling of Ardyn touching him as much as he wanted to.

“So,” he said, the roof of his mouth gone dry, and when he looked up at him, Ardyn’s amber eyes were wide and beautiful and intelligent and everything he’d ever wanted. “After all this time, suddenly you’re telling me I’m living in sin?” He half-laughed under his breath. “You want to get married, is that it?”

\--

Ardyn regretted saying what he had _immediately_. It had just sort of slipped out, but he’d put himself into the metaphorical hotseat now, and there was shitall he could do about it. Damn. He just tried to distract Cor with a hand on his dick, and looked anywhere but into his eyes, looked down at where they pushed together, looked at the heads of their cocks, both hard but not yet aching, pushing between his fingers and over the edge of his fist.

“I never said that,” Ardyn replied, nonchalant, avoiding. Sidestepping. He slid his other hand down behind them and gently squeezed Cor’s balls in his fist, spat on his fist to slick the both of them faster, easier. “I was just stating facts.” That was a step too far, even for him. A step much, much too far. And then, because Cor had never known what was good for him—

“Stop talking, Marshal.”

\--

As soon as he said it, he noticed the way Ardyn withdrew, no longer looking at him but down at where their cocks were pressed together. Ardyn was stroking him nice and hard and Cor let out quiet, shaky breaths. But even around all the heat in the pit of his stomach starting to go to his head and cloud his thoughts, he could tell when Ardyn was suddenly taking ten steps back in the conversation. He’d been the one to say it, though, Cor had only followed those words to their logical conclusion.

“You practically said it,” he stated. “You might as well have.” He hadn’t exactly counted on anything like that. Marriage was a little too much even for him, but the sentiment was there, and Ardyn’s sudden hesitation when he’d realized what he said was endearing.

He gasped when Ardyn squeezed his balls, let out a quiet groan and leaned his head back as Ardyn slicked the two of them, and it felt _so good_ to have the other man’s length against his own, hard and firm and hot. He groaned again, brought his knees up a little and shifted his hips into the other man’s touch.

“Ardyn,” he muttered, holding him close by his hair, pressing their faces together. He wondered, as a passing thought, if he ever did ask the other man to marry him, whether Ardyn would say yes. Probably not. Not even in different circumstances, Cor didn’t think. He didn’t really seem the type to be interested in marriage. Cor was still surprised he’d brought it up at all. Still. “You love me,” he mumbled against his lips, smiling. “You’ve never said it, but I know you do. We’ve been together nearly six years. It’s only reasonable…”

And then Ardyn told him to stop talking, and he did, just smiled quietly and rocked his hips up into the other man’s hand, trying to get more friction even as Ardyn stroked the two of them together.

\--

Cor continued, and Ardyn dealt with the complaints by leaning forward, putting his hand over the other man’s mouth to cut him off. “Shut up,” he said, more affectionately than he wanted to. “You are digging your own grave, Marshal.” Cor looked smug, though, when he did finally shut up. Ardyn merely petulantly shoved his head down into the pillow.

Ass.

They were both hard, now, Ardyn’s cock leaking precome, Cor throbbing up against him. Like this, both their cocks in the palm of his hand, it was clear how much bigger than him Cor was, his cock another good two inches, just as thick, just as hard. It was all too easy for Ardyn to grind over him, catching their cockheads together. “You like me squeezing your balls, Marshal?” Ardyn murmured, watching his bright eyes as Cor kept grabbing at his hair, mussing it, trying to drag him down to kiss him. Ardyn didn’t give in to it. “Your life in the palm of my hand?”

\--

Ardyn clapped his hand over his mouth and Cor couldn’t help but grin behind it, raising his eyebrows at him. It wasn’t often he was able to get back at Ardyn for anything, and the other man seemed particularly sensitive about this. It was sweet, and Cor laughed breathlessly when Ardyn shoved him down against the pillow, even as all of him began to burn in arousal, his breathing more heavily.

Then Ardyn ground them together again and he leaned back against the pillow and moaned, shifting up into that touch. The head of Ardyn’s cock felt slick and damp and just hard enough that having the two of them ground against each other in the other man’s palm sent sparks up his spine.

Ardyn resisted as he kept trying to pull him and keep him down close, so Cor just held onto him by his hair, lips parted as he met his eyes. “Yes,” he muttered. He had liked that, just been a little surprised by the touch, and he panted quietly as he shifted his hips. “I trust you.”

\--

“I’ve never met a more foolish man,” he murmured, gently, unable to bring more heat to bear in his voice, too affectionate, too gentle. He had a weak spot, and Cor had wormed in there and taken up residence and broken his defences open and he had just given up. He’d finally, after almost six years, just given up. But, Ardyn could still reach down between them, take Cor’s balls in his hand again, and squeezed, stroked the both of them, thrusting into his first and into the head of Cor’s cock against his own. They were both leaking, and there was this hot noise in the back of his throat, of what he wanted, of—

“Cor,” Ardyn purred, pulling up on the other man’s testicles, his heart in his throat, this strange feeling in his bones that he was _staying_ , but it was better that, than—

“I love you,” he whispered, raw and oddly hushed, holding the other man’s gaze, not looking away, mouth half-open, stroking them both. Just this one time was. “I love you, you know.”

\--

Cor stared up at him, flushing at the gentleness in the other man’s voice. Ardyn was so rarely affectionate, he hardly knew what to do with himself. Ardyn’s eyes were soft as he looked down at him, and Cor stroked his wavy hair gently between his fingers, trembling as the other man’s palm cupped his balls. He groaned when Ardyn squeezed, panting as the other man stroked the two of them together. He was hard and leaking and aching beneath his touch, and he jerked his hips up to rub his cock harder against Ardyn’s and into his hand. He could feel Ardyn leaking against him, and it was slick and hot and intimate and he felt like he’d never wanted him and loved him so much, that his chest and stomach had never felt so tight.

When Ardyn said his name, he arched against him without even thinking, letting out a hard, shaking breath. Ardyn called to him like Cor was everything he’d ever wanted, and when he said he loved him, like it was secret and sacred and looked into his eyes, Cor sobbed aloud and came too hard and too fast and all at once, shoving his hips up into his hand, jerking against him, and when Ardyn said it again, he felt another full wave of the orgasm hit him full on, and he shook and groaned. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, he felt like he was on fire, and he wanted to shove the two of them together and stay there forever, wanted to dedicate himself to Ardyn Lucis Caelum for all eternity. Ardyn, who was his King, in all manner of speaking.

“I know,” he managed to get out at last, sobbing as he rode out the rest of it, rolling his hips, tangling his fingers tight into the other man’s hair, holding onto him. “I…” He couldn’t think anymore. In all his years, no one had ever told him they loved him so sincerely, so honest and open. He’d whispered under his breath, and even if it was the only time Ardyn ever said it, it was all he needed, and it meant so much more because of it.

“I love you,” he wheezed, squeezing the other man’s hip in his palm, trying to drag him closer by his hair. “Ardyn, I love you.”

\--

Cor came.

Ardyn had rather expected him to, to tell the truth.

The younger man arched up against him, shattering like too-hot glass, watching Ardyn with his eyes as bright as jewels. He curled back over Cor in turn, as the other man came over both their cocks and his fingers, and bit his lower lip to bleeding as he stroked himself to completion as well, a little easier and quicker than he would have liked, nails digging helplessly into Cor’s thigh. He let Cor pull him over, willingly, willingly, and pressed their foreheads together, semen-stained palm pressed flat to the other man’s stomach, sticky in Cor’s pubic hair, stared down into his eyes.

Ardyn smiled.

They would do their best and that, perhaps, was all they could do.

\--

Ardyn curled around him in the afterglow that evening, after he’d finished between them, and they stayed like that for a long time. It was what he’d needed. That taste of happiness, something he wanted to hold onto forever and knew he couldn’t.

It was going to get worse. That was inevitable. And he would stand with him until the very end. Even after his death, he vowed to himself that night, he would remain dedicated, and maybe then he would have the opportunity to make everyone else see the man he’d known.


	15. shadows will scream that i'm alone but i know, we've made it this far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor sounded grumpier than usual, but Ardyn chalked it up to them being awake during the night and didn’t think much of it for the next few minutes, until Cor didn’t come into the kitchen to look for food and/or Ardyn like he usually did, and _then_ Ardyn went to the bedroom and found the other man—
> 
> Curled up with his head shoved under the pillow, still entirely in bed, his phone chucked haphazardly on the nightstand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [twenty one pilots's "migraine"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bs92ejAGLdw)

It wasn’t quite domestic bliss, but it was something like happiness, and that was close enough for what he wanted that Ardyn wasn’t going to push his luck. There was a surprising amount going on in Lestallum that, as he started to hide his face in a way that was enough _unlike_ himself that people didn’t notice, he quickly found a niche as a purveyor of nigh-on useless information and skills that nobody else had.

And if it made him a little bit sicker, it was a worthwhile loss. The only things that came with it were Ardyn finding himself sometimes frozen stock-still in Cor’s apartment, not sure how he’d gotten there. Once, a broken mug was on the floor. Once, far more worryingly, when Cor wasn’t home, he had a knife.

After that, Ardyn started locking things away where he wouldn’t be able to get to them if he was a bunch of confused daemons and not a man.

The first sign that it was getting worse was that when he did sleep, which he enjoyed although he didn’t _need_ , he was having strange and frightening dreams, until he just gave up on sleep altogether, and would spend the nights while Cor rested curled up in his arms, head shoved under his chin, listening to his heartbeat and counting the minutes until he woke up again, or on his phone, making use of Lestallum’s wifi, doing what he’d always done best when bored—learning. Which was both how he discovered that Cor was disgustingly clingy in his sleep _and_ how he learned to operate a laundry machine.

\--

There was a certain bittersweetness to their happiness. Every morning when he woke up next to him, Cor felt like he must have been blessed by the gods to have been allowed the privilege of those moments, and every night when he fell asleep curled around Ardyn, and every moment in between that he was able to spend with him. But it all had a certain air of finality to it. Any day could be the last time. He knew that. And it was like a waking dream, in some ways, having him there at all, staying with him and not just disappearing after a day or two. He found himself constantly astonished that Ardyn stayed and continued to stay and every time, he felt a little bit more helplessly in love.

It almost felt normal, coming home to his presence, living with him. He tried not to let himself get too used to the feeling. It was slowly going to get worse, he reminded himself. It already was. He’d seen him zone out, staring at the shattered mug on the floor, or at the wall, before he came back to himself. It never lasted long, and he hadn’t done anything too worrying yet, but Cor kept an eye on him.

“You don’t sleep at night very often,” he muttered one evening as he tucked in around him and turned off the light. “Do you?” Ardyn’s sleep cycles had always been strange. Cor didn’t think he needed to sleep regularly, although Ardyn did sometimes. He’d seen him sleep before. But lately, Cor half-woke often in the middle of the night to the light of the other man’s phone shining in the bedroom, or to Ardyn shuffling about just enough to disturb him, after so many years gone without consistently sharing a bed. It was enough for him to piece together that Ardyn tended not to, not that he minded at all. It was just touching to think that Ardyn stayed in bed with him at night even if he didn’t sleep himself.

\--

Cor asked him about sleeping one night, as he turned the light out, the other man’s arm thrown over his waist and their knees knocking together. He didn’t answer right away, shifting to get comfortable before he settled with his weight on his bad hip, pressing it back into socket, Cor’s fingers dipping just under the waistline of Ardyn’s boxers.

“I’ve no need to,” he said on at last, which wasn’t much of a lie. Although he had been more tired lately, it was probably because he was expending all his energy on keeping the mess in his head in check. “It certainly doesn’t _hurt_ , but I’ve precious little time of late. Sleeping is just a luxury, Cor.” He gentled his fingers over the back of the other man’s hand. The veins there were starting to stand out against his skin, which was getting thinner. He’d aged so much in six years. “You don’t have to worry about me on that account, at least.”

\--

Ardyn settled in and Cor tucked the blankets around them, watching his amber eyes in the dark of their bedroom before he sighed softly and shifted closer, pressing their faces together. “Mhm,” he muttered when Ardyn finally replied, because that was about what he’d expected. The other man’s fingers were gentle and warm against his own and he slid his hand a little further beneath the waistband of his boxers, touching his skin.

“I’m not really worried,” he said quietly as he closed his eyes. “It’s just that, I sleep all night, and you stay here with me, awake.” He smiled. “It’s nice of you. But it might be good for you to sleep a little sometimes, too. Even an immortal must need rest.”

\--

Cor was watching his face intensely, looking for something, or just looking in the safety of the dark. Cor’s hand slid under his waistband and Ardyn sighed, didn’t bother to throw him off. He did need rest, of course, just not near as much as a single human. He’d needed more and more of late, but currently he was. More worried about sleeping than not.

He shrugged a single shoulder. “Where else would I go at night?” Sometimes he got up and sat on the couch, watched the reruns of old Insomnian television on Cor’s TV, or would go out and sit on the rooftop and look out over the city. But time passed so quickly to him, a single night in some ways less than minutes, that he usually wasn’t bothered by hours spent in bed in the dark. “I won’t hurt any more than anything else does at this point.”

\--

He supposed the other man made a good point. There wasn’t exactly anything to do at night aside from sleep. Cor frowned a little, though, studying his face still as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He touched Ardyn’s cheek, gently, and the stubble there, touched his high cheekbones, the corners of his eyes, and the bags beneath them. They were always there, but they were certainly more present lately, so trying to convince him he didn’t need at least a little sleep was an absolute lie. Maybe Cor had been lying a little, too, when he said he wasn’t worried.

“Sleep tonight,” he said quietly. “Rest with me. I know,” he muttered, taking his hand and tangling their fingers together. “I know you’re losing time. But if only for a few hours.” He curled closer. “Anyway, it will be easier for me to sleep if you sleep, too.”

\--

Cor touched his face, and he looked worried. Ardyn reached up, pulled his hand away. “I’m not tired, Cor,” Ardyn lied. “I don’t need you to mother hen me.” Ardyn _was_ older. You would think at his age he had learned when and what he needed, but Cor had never been one to let go of something without it being ripped out of his arms. But, it was hard to do anything with Cor thrown half over him.

“I’ll try,” Ardyn lied, sighing as he settled down. He would at least close his eyes and rest; that would likely be good enough. “You’re getting very demanding, Marshal. I’m starting to regret this whole arrangement.”

\--

Ardyn was complaining so much, it was just like him. Cor was certain he didn’t even have a good reason to protest, and he was too tired to argue with him. He sighed, rolling more over the other man until he was mostly on top of him, pressing him down against the bed with his face shoved into Ardyn’s hair. “Try,” he muttered, letting himself relax against Ardyn, wanting to go to sleep himself. He kissed his ear, gently, knowing full well that Ardyn wasn’t regretting anything, just mouthing off for the sake of it. “Just try.”

\--

Cor sighed and rolled over half on top of him, Ardyn wheezing in surprise. “You’re _heavy_ ,” he moaned, unhappily, as the other man mashed him into the sheets, but did nothing at all to get out from under him. It was a reassuring weight, even if Cor did make it hard to breathe. When Cor kissed the shell of his ear Ardyn made a wet noise somewhere low in his throat and closed his eyes, huffing. “Fine,” he grumbled, sprawling out under Cor’s weight. He couldn’t go anywhere anyway like this, even if he’d wanted to.

Cor dropped off quickly, and Ardyn listened to him sleep. He hadn’t snored the first few times they’d shared a bed, years before, but he did quietly now, and Ardyn found it more endearing than he would have liked to admit. And, somewhere in that long dark night, he dropped off, lulled to sleep by Cor’s even breaths and reassuring weight.

\--

Cor slept, with Ardyn pressed beneath him. In what must have been the early hours of the morning, long before his alarm would have woken him, he could feel Ardyn shoving at him in his sleep, elbowing him, and Cor just grunted and rolled over, passing out again with the blankets pulled up tight over his shoulder.

Then, even mostly asleep, he heard the telltale shattering sound of the Armiger coming to life and jerked awake, half sitting up, almost reaching for his sword in startled confusion. Ardyn was glowing red, but just as quickly as it had appeared it passed, and it was just him, thrashing and whimpering and mumbling to himself.

Cor’s heart was pounding from being wrenched awake so quickly, but watching Ardyn like that, desperately fighting some kind of horrible nightmare, he ached from concern and rolled over him, pinning him down and grabbing his wrist to keep him from thrashing too much, shaking his shoulder. “Ardyn,” he hissed, voice still heavy from sleep. He watched his face, shook him harder. “Ardyn. It’s only a dream, wake up.” He pulled him into his arms, squeezed the other man against him. “ _Ardyn_.”

\--

Ardyn woke up when his hand was pinned down and he shouted in surprise, trying to wrench away. It was strong, strong, and he couldn’t get his hand back, but he realised moments before he reached for something, anything, a weapon, Fire, he got his rolling eyes open and stared upward, and all he could see in the darkness, terrified and his vision blurry with sleep, was blue eyes, blue, blue eyes. Panting, he shoved _hard_ on Izunia’s chest, shaking violently, and kicked at his brother with his good leg.

“<Not this time,>” he snarled, Fire roaring to life in his hand, “<Don’t you touch—>” The flames lit up the dark bedroom, and with the angles they cast, forcing his eyes to adjust, Ardyn realised the person he’d kicked at and had been about to set alight wasn’t his brother it was—

“Cor,” he whispered, magic licking out in his fist. His chest was tight like someone had put iron bands around his lungs, and he shook violently. He opened his mouth, but found his tongue trapped on half a dozen words that didn’t make sense, that _couldn’t_ make sense. “Quod. Q—I. What?”

\--

Ardyn’s eyes were open, but he didn’t seem fully awake, not at first. He looked dazed and afraid, staring up at him, and then he shoved him, hard, and Cor was completely unprepared for it. He resisted and tensed instinctively but still went tumbling off him, and then Ardyn kicked him, speaking in some other language; it sounded like Old Lucian.

Cor grunted at the impact, rolling away from him and leaning up on one hand. He didn’t even know what to do, there was fire in the other man’s hand, and he had no easy defense against that. He could have grappled him easily, could have held him down, but fire was another matter entirely.

“Ardyn!” he shouted, a warning, to try to reach him. The fire was bright, and in that moment, he felt a horrible shock of fear. And then Ardyn looked at him, recognition and horror flicking across his face as the flame went out.

Cor just stared at him, unsure what to do as Ardyn grasped at words, and woke up, trying to differentiate what was real from whatever he’d seen in the dream. Cor wanted to go to him but he was… hesitant. He couldn’t be completely sure that Ardyn wouldn’t lash out again. So, he stayed where he was, tense, his heart racing.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly, trying to calm the other man, as well as himself. “You were dreaming. You… thought I was trying to hurt you. I think.” Or, it was the daemons, or both, he wasn’t sure.

\--

Ardyn slowly curled up, pressed his face into his hands. Cor was on the far end of the bed, where Ardyn had kicked him, sprawled as confused and overwhelmed as Ardyn himself felt. Fumbling, he leaned over the bed and on his third try got the switch on the lamp. It was one of those little twisty plastic ones, fiddly things, and he’d never been any good with them.

In the low light from the bulb, the bedroom was just. A bedroom again. Cor was just Cor, looking ragged and baffled the way a person only did when suddenly and inexplicably launched out of sleep. Ardyn shook his head in response to the other man’s explanations, pulling his knees up to his chest. It hadn’t been any of those things, it had been—

“No,” he said, trying to reassure Cor, digging his fingers into his hair and pulling to get some kind of grounding, pinpricks of pain on the top of his head that told him he wasn’t dead, he wasn’t a daemon. He was just a monster. “No, not that. Not. Not that.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and just sat through another round of shakes, freezing cold and slicked all over with sweat. “Sorry.”

\--

Ardyn turned the light on, looked around. Cor kept staring at him, but Ardyn seemed entirely back to himself now, just shaken and exhausted. When Ardyn pulled his knees up, tugged at his hair, and apologized, Cor let out a quiet, shaky breath. Slowly, he moved towards him, until he was sitting up beside him. Ardyn was trembling horribly, his brow streaked with sweat.

“It’s all right,” Cor said again, carefully wrapping an arm around him. “You weren’t yourself.” He paused, studying him, wanting to pull him closer, to hold him until he stopped shaking, but he wanted to let him have his space, too. “Do you want to talk about it?”

\--

Cor came over only hesitantly, and stilled beside him for a long time. Ardyn couldn’t bring himself to look at the other man; the hot shame in the back of his throat was rancid and acrid as burnt rubber smoke and was simply just _guilt_. He had come here to not hurt anyone. Instead, he had hurt Cor.

He’d be better off just leaving. At least in Insomnia there were only the dead.

When Cor wrapped an arm around his shoulders, Ardyn miserably mashed his face into his knees and just limply went with it. “No.” He didn’t even have to hesitate; there was too much bad blood there for him to force himself to speak of it with Cor. Astrals knew, if the man knew some of what Ardyn had seen, thought of—

“I thought you were…” he murmured eventually, and then, “Someone else.”

\--

Ardyn didn’t seem to mind the touch, too distraught to care, so Cor dragged his palm across his shoulder blades, rubbing gently down his spine to to the small of his back. He slid his fingertips beneath the hem of his boxers, and up under the bottom of his shirt, pressing his palm flat against his skin, and cupped his hip, tugging him closer.

Leaning towards him, he pressed his nose into the other man’s sweat-streaked hair, breathed him in. It took Ardyn a long time to want to say anything, and he didn’t mind waiting. He was tired, but he certainly wasn’t going back to sleep while Ardyn was like this.

Cor nodded a little. A part of him suspected he knew who Ardyn thought he was while he was dreaming, but still, he prompted, “Who?”

\--

Cor knew him well enough to know that what Ardyn needed was just. Touch. Human contact. Skin, and warmth, and pressure, and _comfort_ , and he took it without hesitation, curling into the other man’s hands and wishing desperately for reassurance. He grunted to the other man’s question, and laughed under his breath. “Who do you _think_ , Cor?”

\--

Ardyn curled against him, leaning into him and Cor turned towards him. Shifting, he slid around behind him, pulled Ardyn up against him and wrapped his arms tight around his waist, resting his chin on the other man’s shoulder. He pressed his face into his hair again, letting out a slow breath against the shell of his ear.

“The man who had eyes like mine,” he mumbled. He’d guessed as much, especially given Ardyn’s reaction when he tried to wake him. “You never told me very much about him, except that he hurt you.”

\--

He wasn’t really sure how he’d ended up in Cor’s lap, but Ardyn didn’t complain, just tucked his good leg up and stretched the bad one out, wincing as it tugged on the stiff lack of motion on his hip, his toes on that side drooping oddly with the strange lassitude of his ankle and heel. As he shook off the last of the terror, Ardyn was getting damn cold, covered in freezing sweat, and he was more than grateful for Cor’s warmth behind him.

Ardyn sighed. It was fruitless, but he closed his eyes anyway, leaned back into Cor’s shoulder, and scrunched his nose up in disapproval. “Must we?” He murmured, voice low enough that he could feel it rumbling back into Cor’s skin. “Can’t I remain _somewhat_ mysterious and damaged by my horrifying past?”

\--

Ardyn relaxed against him, stretching out his bad leg, and Cor pulled him closer, slid his hands up under his shirt to run his palms across his stomach, and nudged his hair aside to kiss his neck. Ardyn was still shivering against him, covered in a cold sweat.

He smiled. “I’ve never pushed it before,” he muttered. “But if you’re having nightmares like this… I’d like to know.” He thought it would be good for Ardyn to talk about it, anyway, instead of keeping it all bottled up inside.

\--

Cor’s warm palms were scalding on his stomach, and Ardyn made a miserable, wet noise and tried to crawl further into his arms, grabbing at the blankets and pulling them back up to cover his legs to keep out the chill. He missed the sun more and more; he’d at least sometimes been warm like that. Cor spoke into the side of his neck, words and breath stirring the short hairs there, hot with affection, and Ardyn sighed.

There was so much that he didn’t want to tell Cor. That he just...didn’t. He wanted the Marshal to still think something of him, after all.

“I…” Ardyn trailed off. What could he say he hadn’t previously said, without giving more than he wanted to; without baring the mistakes that had led him, here? “Izunia had the same eyes as you,” he settled on at last, setting his fingers over Cor’s, trailing his fingertips over the bend and curve of the other man’s knuckles. They were the same height but the other man had the larger hands, broad palms and strong fingers. Ardyn’s were more tapered; Izunia had called them Healer’s hands, once upon a time. Meant for a King, not a soldier. “I loved him once, terribly so, long ago. He…” Ardyn’s throat felt tight, closed off. He tried not to think about what he’d looked like, when Ardyn had first started to drip black ichor out of his eyes. “He was horrified, by the changes healing had wrought on me, as I got older. He counselled me to stop, to save myself, that the deaths of those around me were not worth...what I was becoming. When I didn’t, when the Crystal’s light faltered upon me, he colluded with the Astrals, and stripped me of my birthright that he might wear the crown instead.” For all the damn good it did for him.

Izunia, Ardyn knew, had not long outlived him, that first death. “I think perhaps he tried to do it as a mercy. He thought that if I wasn’t Chosen any longer, if he could somehow bargain for it, perhaps I might at least be granted an easy, mortal death.

“I wonder, sometimes, what he would have done if he’d known how this would all end.” If it would have been anything different. If Izunia would have stayed by his side, rather than casting him into hell and damnation. Not that it mattered, but it sometimes gave him a pause, something gentled. To imagine that his brother would have ever been anything other than the last image Ardyn had of him, crowned atop his throne, Ardyn’s lifeblood running down the channel of his blade, with a look on his face and in his eyes of absolute anguish and regret—aye, yes, anguish and horror for what he’d done, for being named kin(g)slayer, but gloating nevertheless. The spare, stealing the crown. How. Strangely fitting.

\--

Ardyn made a quiet miserable sound that made his heart ache, and he helped the other man pull the blankets up over both of them, holding him close. He was patient, and he let Ardyn take his time to figure out what he wanted to say. He tangled their fingers together, kissed his neck again as Ardyn explained.

It still wasn’t much, but far more than he’d ever said of the matter in the past, and Cor just held him and closed his eyes. He remembered what Ardyn had said of him in the past, that Izunia who, Cor supposed, Ardyn had taken his false last name from, had betrayed his trust. He’d guessed, too, that Izunia had been one of the early Lucian kings. Mercy or not, it didn’t excuse any of what he’d done, and Cor curled his fingers against Ardyn’s skin, dragged the other man tight up against him and glared into the distance over his shoulder, as if he could somehow protect him from his past, and this man who was now long dead.

“He hurt you,” he ground out quietly. He didn’t particularly care what Izunia’s intentions had been, or whether or not he thought he was doing the right thing. He’d hurt Ardyn, likely in more ways than one, stripped him of his crown and cursed him for thousands of years. “I’ll never turn my back on you like he did. Never.”

\--

A glance out the corner of his eye revealed that Cor was glaring vaguely, surprisingly intense despite being half asleep still. “He’s long dead,” Ardyn laughed, leaned comfortably back into Cor’s shoulder, smiling. “Really, Cor, you can’t possibly spit on his grave more than I have.” It was fascinating, how quickly and easily Cor could turn for him.

It had been years since the thought had crossed his mind, but Ardyn was still _astounded_ that Regis had never seen the potential in his Marshal, resting untapped in his hand. He was as fiercely loyal as he was deadly. “I know that,” Ardyn added, after a moment, touching the back of Cor’s hand, his wrist, turning it over in his grip and tracing the veins up the soft skin on the inside of his wrist, to the scarred, lined pattern of his palms. “I should hope I do by now.” Cor only repeated it every opportunity he had. “I have healed very little since those days, and the daemons I have inside me still think of that time as their clearest memories, for the most part. In my panic I…” he’d been able to see Cor’s face, but the clarity of his eyes had been—

“Did not recognise you.”

\--

He knew Izunia was long dead, yes. That didn’t stop him from wanting to spit on his gave even more, to somehow protect Ardyn from his ghost and the images that haunted him.

He relaxed, though, as the other man’s fingers touched his hand, and his wrist. He leaned back a little against the pillows, tugging Ardyn with him. He still bristled with half-asleep anger and the terrible desire to fight Izunia and the Astrals for Ardyn’s sake, but he relaxed more as Ardyn spoke and reassured him.

“I know,” he said quietly, letting out a slow breath. “You looked… out of it. Like you didn’t know what you were doing. It’s... all right.” And it was. Ardyn hadn’t actually hurt him. Even that kick barely stung, now. At the worst it would bruise a little. What troubled him more was what he would do if it happened again. If it kept happening. If Ardyn really _did_ try to hurt him. He didn’t want to think about that happening but… he knew it was a possibility he had to be prepared for.

The thought made him ache and he shoved his face back into Ardyn’s hair, ran one hand up the other man’s chest. “Is that why you didn’t want to sleep?”

\--

Something seemed to have worried Cor again, because he pulled Ardyn closer again, nose tucked into his hair, and Ardyn sighed, clasped his roaming hand, tangled their fingers to try and calm him. Cor was even more anxious than he was; more disconcerted by the interruption to their night.

“Not that specifically, but yes. I’ve had nightmares every night.” Ardyn sighed, closed his eyes. “The daemons are getting more restless.” he laughed, a little bit pained. “I’ll admit, I’ve been debating dying for a little bit of peace and quiet. I thought you might not approve of finding me dead in your bathtub.”

\--

Ardyn took his hand, tangled their fingers, and Cor held onto him tightly, the touch relaxing him again, slowly. “No,” he muttered, snorting a little at Ardyn’s pained attempt at humor. “I’d rather not.” He frowned. “But I wish I could help you quiet them. I wish I could do… _something_. To make it easier.” He already felt a little guilty for convincing him to sleep but then, he hadn’t known, and Ardyn _did_ need rest. If only he could help him sleep, quiet the daemons, and give him a little rest, but he was even more powerless against them than Ardyn was.

\--

“You do,” Ardyn replied, turning back slightly to kiss the corner of Cor’s jaw, looking up at him. He tried not to look besotted (and failed). “Having you around, talking to you, reminding me I’m mortal yet, that all grounds me. Keeps me from losing my mind.” More. Ardyn squeezed the other man’s hand again, smiled at him. “Really. You’ve done more than enough. I’ll get up and do something else until the worst of it has passed. You have to go back to sleep.”

\--

Ardyn kissed his jaw, and Cor turned to press their faces together as the other man looked up at him, smiling a little. He’d never really thought of that as helping. He just… liked being around him, because he loved him. But to hear that it did help was reassuring, and he kissed him, gently, when Ardyn squeezed his hand and gave him a quiet, beautiful smile.

“That’s good, then,” he muttered. But when Ardyn said he would get up, Cor shifted, coaxed the both of them further down beneath the blankets and rolled over on top of him, tucking blankets around them and bundling him Ardyn in his arms.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said, then sighed and relaxed against him. “Just stay here, with me. Let me hold you. I’ll go back to sleep, in a little while.”

\--

Ardyn started to whine, “Cor,” in a petulant, bitchy tone of voice but he didn’t even get halfway into it before Cor dragged him back and bundled him into the blankets, rolled over, and mashed Ardyn into the bed. He deflated with a slow whine, trapped completely under the Marshal’s superior weight, and tried to elbow Cor back off of him. It didn’t work. “You’re a menace,” Ardyn growled, trying to kick him off. “Cor, you’re _heavy_.”

\--

Ardyn whined at him and Cor didn’t listen. He just stayed there on top of him, with Ardyn trapped beneath him, not budging even when Ardyn elbowed him and tried to throw him off. He was stronger, and heavier, and used it entirely to his advantage.

Smiling, Cor kissed the corner of his mouth, the side where it was ragged without his glamour. “I love you,” he muttered, wrapping one arm around him and burying his face into his shoulder, clapping his other hand over Ardyn’s mouth. “Now stop whining and relax.”

\--

Cor dug him further into the bed, and Ardyn huffed an angry, if complemented, grunt at the other man saying he loved him, and was about to retort again when Cor put his hand over Ardyn’s mouth. Silencing him.

Ardyn growled like an angry cat, and tried in vain to bite Cor’s hand, crossing his arms inside the protective cocoon of the Marshal’s body heat and near-hissing with frustration. Damn man. Not that there was anything he could do but lay there, effectively trapped, and consider his revenge in the morning as he waited for Cor to fall back asleep.

\--

Ardyn growled, tried to bite him, but Cor didn’t care. He just held him, bundled up and unable to go anywhere at all, safe and warm in Cor’s arms. When he was more convinced Ardyn would remain quiet, he yawned and pulled his hand away, reached over and turned the light out, and wrapped both arms around him, snuggling down against him.

With Ardyn pressed against him, warm and reassuring, and his face mashed into Ardyn’s shoulder, it was easy enough to fall asleep again. As soon as his eyes were closed and he was relaxed, he slipped off before he’d even noticed.

\--

Cor only relented on keeping him pinned when Ardyn stopped struggling, and he only begrudgingly did even that much, face shoved into the mattress. Cor was really no fun at all. 

Ardyn did, at least, stop complaining even after the hand over his mouth was removed, and he closed his eyes, stayed still as Cor dropped back off almost as quickly as he’d woken up. Probably from years as a soldier, the man could sleep almost anywhere. Ardyn found himself begrudgingly jealous of the skill.

He dozed off and on, but never any deeper than restless shifting, not far enough to dream, and woke earlier even than Cor did, struggling out of bed as soon as it could be considered a proper waking time and going to go make breakfast for Cor so he didn’t have to.

\--

Cor slept deeply, though some time in the early morning he kept half waking up with a horrible pounding behind his eyes. When his alarm went off, he groaned and shut it off quickly, the sound making his head scream, grabbed the pillow and stuffed his head under it to keep out the lights and the sounds around him.

Ardyn wasn’t in bed, and he thought he smelled food, and that just made him feel nauseous on top of it. Of course the migraine was kicking in. He didn’t even know why he’d thought it would do anything else. It was like his body was saying, _you were awake for an hour in the middle of the night, time to suffer_.

The pain was relentless, throbbing in his skull so hard he wanted to drag his face across the pavement to make it stop. It probably wasn’t the worst he’d ever had, but in that moment, it felt like it.

Blearily, half-awake and feeling like there was fire behind his eyes, he fumbled for his phone and dragged it under the pillow with him, opened one eye just enough to see the screen, and texted ‘Migraine day’ to Monica, because she would know exactly what that meant and exactly what to do, then chucked it back onto the nightstand, groaned again, and pulled the pillow harder over his head, mashing his hand up against his face and rubbing between his eyes as he tried to go back to sleep.

\--

When Cor’s alarm went off, Ardyn heard the other man groan and fumble with his phone to turn it off before there were the quiet noises of waking up in the morning from the bedroom. Cor sounded grumpier than usual, but Ardyn chalked it up to them being awake during the night and didn’t think much of it for the next few minutes, until Cor didn’t come into the kitchen to look for food and/or Ardyn like he usually did, and _then_ Ardyn went to the bedroom and found the other man—

Curled up with his head shoved under the pillow, still entirely in bed, his phone chucked haphazardly on the nightstand. “Cor,” Ardyn said, chastising, “You have to get up.” He flicked on the bedroom light. “Don’t you have a hunt tonight?”

\--

Just as he was on the verge of passing out again, he heard Ardyn’s footsteps, far too loud in the quiet bedroom, and the other man’s voice, telling him to get up. He groaned as loud as he could to try to drown him out, pulled the pillow harder around his face.

When Ardyn turned the light on, though, even from beneath the pillow he could feel it creeping in at the corners of his vision, burning into his eyes, making his head scream, and he curled up, half-sobbing and waving one hand vaguely in Ardyn’s direction. “No,” he said, “No, no, no light, _please_.” He pressed his hand back beneath the pillow, shoving his face into it again, and into the mattress, and went back to groaning in pain.

\--

The noise Cor made when Ardyn turned on the light was possibly one of the worst things he’d ever heard, and Ardyn scrambled to flip it back off before the man even finished speaking. He was familiar with his own version of that wet, anguished noise of pain, snuffling and broken. “Cor,” Ardyn murmured, coming over quickly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He pulled the pillow out from the other man’s white-knuckled fingers and pressed his hand to Cor’s forehead; checking for a fever. “What’s wrong?” He looked pallid and flushed, and he was strangely tense.

Cor had never been like this around Ardyn before.

\--

Ardyn turned the light out immediately and at that he started to relax again, the pounding receding just the slightest bit. He groaned again, quietly, when Ardyn said his name, and he felt the other man’s familiar weight on the edge of the bed. When Ardyn took his pillow away, though, he grumbled incoherently, pushing his hands to his face instead, digging the heels of his palms against his eyes, fingers pressed hard against his forehead.

“Migraine,” he grumbled when Ardyn prompted him, turning his face into the mattress again. “Really bad.” Reluctantly pulling one hand away from his face, he reached blindly for the blankets and pulled them up higher, over his head. “Need to sleep.”

\--

Cor dug his palms into his eyes, and Ardyn gentled the stress on his brow, leaned over him, tried to soothe the pounding veins at his temples. “Cor…” he whispered, almost _frightened._ Ardyn had experienced his own fair share of migraines through the years, given that he shared his brain with hundreds of daemons, but he’d never expected Cor had to deal with them.

When Ardyn’s got bad, he usually just killed himself, because that was the easiest way to get rid of them. Cor did not have any such luxury. “All right,” Ardyn murmured, handing Cor back his pillow. It was dark in the bedroom, but he still got up and closed the blinds to cut off the streetlights from Lestallum proper, shut the door to the kitchen and living room so that none of the light from in there soaked through. “Can I do anything?” He asked in a whisper, hand pressed gently to Cor’s shoulder, fingertips cool on the column of his neck. “Do you need me to get anyone?”

\--

Ardyn touched him gently, fingers cool on his face, rubbing at his temples. He sighed quietly at that. Ardyn seemed so worried, he wished he could reassure him somehow, but he could barely think, and the entire left side of his face hurt like hell.

When Ardyn handed him his pillow, he shoved his face back into it, eyes closed, groaning softly. He usually just slept, or paced and shoved his hand against his eye until it passed. This one was particularly bad, though. He just needed time.

As Ardyn shut the blinds and closed the door, though, and the darkness settled in, it was much easier to relax, and he was more than grateful for that. When he felt Ardyn’s hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing his neck, Cor reached blindly for it, took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m okay,” he muttered. Even if he was most certainly not okay in the moment, there wasn’t much Ardyn could do for him. He just needed to sleep it off.

\--

Cor didn’t respond for an oddly long time, long enough that Ardyn found himself strangely _terrified_. He’d been a healer all his life; had patched up his fair share of people, but he’d never really dealt with migraines. At least, not ones caused by anything other than daemons. Besides, he had only the proper skills of a surgeon at his behest now. He was no Oracle, after all. Not to mention that his Healing could only hurt Cor, given how corrupted he was.

Eventually, though, the other man took his hand and squeezed it. It was not a very strong squeeze, but it was a squeeze, and he ducked his head to press the back of Cor’s palm against his temple rather than take the other man’s pillow away again. “A potion?” He asked, still pitched low, “Painkillers? I can make willow bark tea.” He paused. “Or just...get you some medicine.” He knew Cor had some in his bathroom cabinet; he’d debated overdosing for an easy way out after that night in Insomnia. But that would have been wasting a precious resource.

\--

Ardyn held his hand, and Cor slipped nearly into a dazed half-sleep for a moment, the pain still burning behind his left eye, stretching out across his forehead and his cheek and his jaw. He tried to shake his head as Ardyn started offering him things, but that just made it hurt more, so he stopped.

After a moment, he let go of Ardyn’s hand to snake it under the pillow again, rubbing at his face. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “There’s medicine. In the cabinet. Tea, later, maybe.” When he was more awake. “And sleep. This should pass, in an hour or two.” And likely start up again later. They always went like that, in horrible patterns. He’d been lucky to have as long a period of relief as he did.

\--

When Cor was better, they were talking about this. Ardyn was the pot calling the kettle black here, but it was a little disconcerting that the other man had literally _never mentioned this_ in the past six years. Had he just expected it would never come up?

( _Or_ , as the daemons in his head whispered, quiet and doubting, _had Cor thought Ardyn wouldn’t care?_ )

“All right.” He left to do as Cor had asked, gathering up the pills from the bathroom and a glass of water, both of which Ardyn passed over to where the Marshal was curled up, an unhappy lump, in his bed. “I’ll get together food for you,” Ardyn continued, running his hand along Cor’s flank. “It’ll be in the fridge for when you’re feeling better. All right?” That said, Ardyn went to gather up what he’d made Cor for breakfast, put it away, and then dressed in some of the clothes of his own that had gathered at Cor’s place over the last few years—thick wool leggings, his own boots with a pair of knit pink leg warmers, and one of Cor’s sweatshirts over a skintight sweat-wicking shirt—before he changed his face to Altum, found his glasses.

“I’ll be out here if you need me,” Ardyn whispered from the kitchen, lying, and then left to go find Monica.

\--

He heard Ardyn shuffling about, distantly, as he closed his eyes and tried to drop into sleep if only to escape the pain. He felt groggy and terrible, but Ardyn was right, his medicine would help. This was what it was for, after all, he just didn’t have it readily on hand.

The other man brought him his pills and Cor reached out from beneath the pillow to take them and the water. “Mmhm,” he muttered to Ardyn as the other man told him that he would leave him food for later, touching his side gently. Then Ardyn left the room, and Cor half sat-up, groaning unhappily as he swallowed the pill, took a gulp of water to wash it down, and promptly shoved his head under his pillow again.

Ardyn had stepped out into the kitchen, and it was dark and quiet. The pounding in his head finally felt like it was starting to recede as he drifted off into an uncomfortable slumber.

He was always disoriented when his migraines came about and he ended up sleeping odd hours. When Cor awoke, he had no idea what time it was. His internal clock was completely off, but he remembered waking up that morning, and talking to Ardyn, and taking his meds. His head was still shoved beneath the pillow as he returned to consciousness and he sighed and slowly removed it.

Just as slowly, he opened his eyes, pressed on the bridge of his nose, and levered himself up on one elbow. The headache was still there but a fraction of what it had been that morning. It was just a distant buzz in his skull now, a reminder that it could all too easily build up again, and undoubtedly would.

For the time being though, he sat up against the pillows, reached for the water Ardyn had left him and had a good drink. He was starving, too, and after taking a moment to steel himself, he slipped out of bed. He was still woozy, but he steadied his legs and made his way to the kitchen, to find the food Ardyn had left for him.

\--

When Ardyn finally got back to the apartment, he found himself spaced out on one of the stairwells, several minutes spent staring into space, and then he dragged himself in the front door to the kitchen.

Cor was awake.

“Oh,” Ardyn said, shutting the door. He didn’t bother trying to trade one lying face for another. “Are you feeling better?”

\--

Cor stared into the fridge for a long moment, then pulled out what was clearly his breakfast, set it on the table, and sat down heavily. There was no sign of Ardyn, he’d realized that quickly enough, but before he could really start to wonder what he was doing, or text him, he heard footsteps out in the front hall, and then the door.

Cor looked up at him as he ate, slowly. Ardyn was wearing Altum’s face. “You went out,” he said, more surprised than anything. And at the question, he shrugged. “More or less. It’s…” he rubbed at his bridge of his nose, leaning into his hand. “Receding, for now.” Resting his arm on the table, he eyed the other man. “You shouldn’t leave the apartment,” he said, too out of it to be angry, but he _was_ concerned, especially now that he knew how hard it was for Ardyn to use his magic. “You’re not well, Ardyn. What were you doing?”

\--

Cor was well enough to get out of bed and eat, but he clearly wasn’t himself. He looked old, nearer to fifty than forty now and all, and he seemed to be having difficulty even stringing a coherent sentence together. He kept struggling to find words as Ardyn kicked his boots off by the door. “I was looking for Monica,” he explained, setting the coffee for Cor down on the table. “Trying to find out what was going on with you.” He checked Cor’s temperature with the back of his hand—it had gone back to normal after his earlier hot flash, which was a relief. “I’m not a child, Marshal. I can make my decisions about where I go and who I talk to. I don’t need you to escort me, especially not when you can’t put two words together.”

\--

“Monica?” Cor repeated, eyeing the coffee. As soon as Ardyn set it down, he took it, sipping it slowly. It would help, a little. Reluctantly, he let Ardyn check his temperature, and went back to eating his breakfast. “You,” he said slowly, motioning towards him with his fork. “You should. You need me. I,” he sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose again. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. I just. Don’t want anything to happen to you, out there. There’s too much… possibility.”

He sighed again, deflated, and combed his fingers through his hair, palm pressed to his aching temple. “You asked Monica about my migraines,” he said after a moment, because that was the obvious answer. Had he really been that worried? Well… of course he had been. Ardyn _loved_ him. He’d probably been scared half to death. And given the way Ardyn tended to him before he left, he certainly had been worried. Cor frowned at that realization. “I should have told you sooner.”

\--

Cor tried to gesture angrily toward him with a fork, but given what bad shape his head was in, kind of just pointed vaguely to the left of him. Ardyn sighed, and turned his hand back to his food. “Eat, and try and start a row _after_.” There was far too much possibility, but Ardyn didn’t want to be the one to point out that in Cor’s current state, he couldn’t have done a damn thing if Ardyn _had_ lapsed. The daemons would’ve overpowered him in minutes.

At least they were a matched set.

“Lo;” Ardyn said, going to the bathroom to properly comb his hair, “And the Marshal did realise the extent of the emotions that the Accursed harboured for him, and in his hour of need came to the obvious conclusion about his unspoken secrets. In a display of masterful intelligence, Cor the Immortal has astounded us all again by plucking the fruit of knowledge.” Ardyn giggled. “Of _course_ I went to ask Monica.”

\--

Cor ate, taking it easy. The cluster headaches hardly ever made his stomach churn, though this one had been some horrible mix of a cluster headache and a regular migraine, it felt like, so best to be careful.

He snorted at Ardyn as the other man went to the bathroom and got all dramatic on him. “You stop that,” he grumbled, though he was smiling fondly. “How much did Monica tell you?” Not that there was much to tell. He got bad migraines regularly. He always had to some extent, and they got worse after his injury. He dealt with them as best he could. Ardyn had just never been around when they were really bad before. Surprising at first, but when he thought back to how sparingly Ardyn had visited him until the past year or so, not that surprising at all, and the headaches had been thankfully dormant for the last few months.

\--

He could hear Cor grumbling from the kitchen as he combed out the worst of his bedhead, his curls attempting a semblance of laying flat after he’d beaten the volume out of them. He _did_ look awful, even with the glamour—Cor was right. He did need to sleep. Especially now, when he was overwhelmed and fighting tooth and nail against the baser nature of the things that lived inside him. “Only a rough sketch,” Ardyn replied, voice raised to be clearly audible as he finished fixing his hair and just left it down, bunching around his shoulders, and came back over to cock his hip in the doorway to the kitchen, to watch Cor attempt to eat. “She said you took some injury in the Old War and had been getting them ever since. And told me to make sure you take your prescription.” He paused and cocked an eyebrow.

“I _do_ expect more information than that, by the way. When you’re better. I’m already plenty ticked that you’d never mentioned it before now, so don’t go trying to avoid this and thinking I’ll let you get away with it.” Oh, how the tables had turned.

\--

Cor looked up at him as he came back to stand in the doorway, with his hair combed and his hip cocked. He still looked like an exhausted mess, but Cor smiled, grateful for him, and feeling suddenly stupidly affectionate. Honestly, it had occurred to him a few times that he should tell Ardyn about his headaches, but it had never come up or seemed to matter. He deserved to be chided, he supposed, considering that he’d gotten angry at Ardyn for doing the exact same thing plenty of times. Ardyn had every right to be ticked at him.

“She had it right,” he said, rubbing at his face again. “And you’re right, too,” he sighed. “I just never thought…” He broke off, frowned. “Well. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you whatever you want. These headaches will probably hit me on and off for a few days, though. That’s usually how it goes.”

\--

When Cor broke off halfway through his sentence, Ardyn felt a cold seed of doubt take up residence in his chest, just behind his breastbone. “Never thought _what_ ,” he prompted, voice flat, took a half-step forward and then another, leaning over to take Cor’s chin, lifting the man’s face to make him look at Ardyn. His expression was crumpled in pain, but the way he had spoken was— “Never thought _what_ , Marshal?”

\--

Ardyn, of course, stuck on his half-formed words, the pathetic excuse that played in his head, that he almost let slip. Ardyn took his chin, and Cor looked up at him, struggling to meet his eyes. “I never thought it _mattered_ ,” he said, because if Ardyn wanted to hear it, he would say it. “I know,” he frowned, “I know it was wrong of me, Ardyn, but you never stayed for more than a few days at a time, back then, and I didn’t need to burden you with worrying about me when I knew I could take care of myself. You were never around when they hit, and even when I _could_ text you, it seemed…” He shrugged. “Well, you were occupied, and I wasn’t about to drag you back here just to look after me when all I did was sleep. And when you moved in, I’d stopped having them for a while. I thought they might be gone forever, this time.”

\--

Cor stared up at him, his blue eyes hazy, trying to meet Ardyn’s and failing. Whether that was the guilt or the pain was unclear. “You _foolish_ man,” Ardyn snarled, fingers shaking. “Of course it _mattered_.” It mattered because for better or for worse, Ardyn cared about him, something fierce and sick and worrying. Cared enough about Cor that he’d possibly put all their lives at a very real risk. “I want to take care of you,” Ardyn murmured, the heat dropping out of his voice like flash-frozen metal, and he bent over, pressed their foreheads together, hugged Cor’s face to his stomach. “I’m yet a healer at heart, Cor. _Let me take care of you_.” He whispered, “Please.”

\--

He couldn’t help the pang of guilt and the way it twisted in his stomach when he felt Ardyn’s fingers shaking, when the other man called him foolish, told him it _did_ matter. But in a large way, too, that was what he’d wanted to hear. No one had ever cared about him the way Ardyn did, and he wanted his affection, even if he _could_ take care of himself. And if Ardyn said it, if Ardyn wanted to, there was no reason for Cor to feel selfish or weak for asking that of him.

Cor turned his face up against the other man’s, like a flower soaking in the rays of the sun, then pressed it into his stomach, looping one arm around him to grab onto his shirt, holding him close, and let out a slow sigh. He was vulnerable and shaky, but he always felt safe with Ardyn there. A long time ago, he would have thought that was strange. Now, it felt completely right.

“All right,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “All right.”

\--

He got Cor to go back to bed before much longer, and read beside him in the dark, curled up and tucked into the Marshal’s body heat, knees leaning against his ass and face tucked into the powerful arch of his shoulder. Ardyn was gladder than ever for his daemon’s eyes, although he knew that was _not_ the intended purpose of his night sight. When Cor woke he would ply the other man with his meds and water, and otherwise Ardyn just waited.

He was a very patient man, and not one easily bored, not to mention that human time sometimes was as quick as blinking, so the better part of a day spent with his boyfriend in too much pain to speak, let alone move, wasn’t the most patience-trying thing he could possibly have dealt with.

\--

Cor stayed in bed, mostly, as he usually did, but it was vastly improved by Ardyn’s presence, tucked up warm against his back. The headaches came in waves, as he’d known they would, but with Ardyn there taking care of him he could stay in bed full time, aside from getting up to use the toilet, and he was more grateful than he could ever say, for that.

His sleep schedule was terribly thrown off, and he was always disoriented when he woke up, but at least this time, as he opened his eyes, he hardly felt the persistent throb behind his left eye at all. He actually felt, almost, that it had passed entirely. He was still groggy, though, and he laid there for a while before rolling over to face Ardyn, tangling their legs and smiling at him as he watched him in the dark.

\--

He could tell when Cor was conscious because his breathing would shift, and he’d stop snoring. He wasn’t sure, on this particular waking, if Cor was actually feeling _better_ until the other man rolled over and tangled their legs together, knees and ankles bumping, and looked up at him with his bright, bright eyes. “Do you need something, Marshal?” Ardyn asked, keeping his voice pitched lower than a whisper, turning the page he’d just finished. “Feeling better?”

\--

Cor threw an arm around his waist, tried to pull him closer. He made a quiet, tired, thoughtful sound, but when Ardyn asked if he was feeling better, he could at least say with certainty, “Yes.” He yawned, grabbing onto the other man’s shirt. “Much better, actually. Just tired, still.” His head ached a little but that, too, would fade in time. “What time is it?”

\--

Cor tossed a hand over his waist, and Ardyn paused, sticking his bookmark in the pages and setting it aside. “Cor,” he huffed, as the other man dragged on his shirt, and he tucked an arm around Cor’s shoulders, let him nuzzle closer. His phone confirmed the time— “Just after three, you’ve been in and out for a day. You should eat something proper.”

\--

Ardyn wrapped an arm around him, and Cor snuggled in closer, sighing in contentment. He hummed thoughtfully at the time. Well, he would take a few days after this to reset his sleep schedule, as long as the migraines didn’t act up again. They’d been receding, though, so he hoped this would be the end of it for a little while.

“I should,” he admitted, pressing their faces together. “Will you get me something? Just a little, I don’t want to push it yet.” He smiled, because Ardyn was warm and he felt drowsy and helplessly in love. He’d never had anyone to take care of him while he was sick before, aside from Monica when it got really bad, but she just mothered him and left him alone otherwise. It didn’t count.

\--

Ardyn sighed, like a put-upon cat whose owner was forcing him to give affection he didn’t want to give. “Yes, yes, if we must,” he groaned, shoving Cor onto the sheets before he went to the kitchen. There was bread, so he made toast, and an egg, and brought them back to Cor, setting them on his chest along with a glass of water and his meds. “Do you need anything else?”

\--

Cor grinned at him as Ardyn pushed him back into the sheets and got up. He moved his pillows behind him, so he could sit up against the headboard. A few minutes later, Ardyn came back with toast and an egg. He took his meds, gulping them down with some of the water, and started to eat, slowly.

“No,” he said, and motioned for him. “Just you.”

\--

Ardyn stared at him and then groaned aloud, hand on his hip, rolled his eyes. “You are a disgrace,” he told Cor, without a hint of heat in it. “An absolute embarrassment to the both of us.”

That said, though, he still got back in bed. With a couple of napkins, in case Cor spilled.

\--

Cor laughed under his breath, leaning against him when Ardyn got back in bed. Even if Ardyn didn’t eat much, he was a very good cook. Not as good as Ignis, no, but good enough for Cor’s tastes, and he made everything with such love for him, it was endearing. He finished his meal quickly enough, faster than he’d eaten anything lately, and when he was done, he set his plate aside and leaned his head against the other man’s.

“You wanted to know about my scar,” he said. He’d been thinking about it, since Ardyn told him he went to Monica, he’d just not been well enough to string thoughts and sentences together coherently. Now, he wasn’t quite back to his usual self, but close enough to actually carry on a conversation.

\--

After Cor had finished eating, he pressed their heads together, shoving Ardyn slightly down the pillows. “Marshal, you have rather a lot of scars,” he replied, tracing the two on the man’s forehead, the one at the base of his throat, and the handful peppered here and there on his chest and side. “I do rather think you’re going to need to be more specific than _that_. I wanted to know about your migraines. You’d never mentioned them before.” He glanced up, met Cor’s too-bright eyes. “Unless you’re saying that, by exemption, your scar has something to do with your migraines?”

\--

Cor smiled at him as Ardyn traced the scars on his face, and the one along his throat, and the others on his torso. “That’s true,” he admitted, and raised an eyebrow. “I thought Monica told you it was because of an injury. Well,” he paused. “In truth, I got regular migraines sometimes, before that. Still do on occasion, but these, like the one I had the past few days, are cluster headaches. From this.” He motioned to the scar that ran horizontally across his throat. “I got it in the Old War. Not… one of my proudest moments, but it was because of that incident that they started calling me the Immortal. And landed me with these awful migraines for the rest of my life.”

\--

“Cluster headaches,” Ardyn repeated, rolling over, leaning one elbow on Cor’s chest. He’d noticed the scar on Cor’s throat years before, but he’d never really paid more than passing attention to it; it hadn’t looked all that serious or deep. But, now that he looked closer—

“Cor,” Ardyn murmured, “Did someone try to _slit your throat?_ ”

\--

Ardyn rolled over him, leaning on his chest, and Cor watched his face, reaching up to run his fingers gently through the other man’s wild curls. He couldn’t help but smile when Ardyn asked. It had been horrible when it happened, but when he told the story and saw the reactions of amazement, well… that, at least, was enjoyable.

“Yes,” he said. “When I was a teenager, maybe a year or two after I’d started working for Regis, I was captured by the Niffs in the area. They dragged me off when I was doing some scouting away from our camp. They held me captive at their base for a few days.” He frowned. “And then, well, of course Regis had organized a rescue party, and after they infiltrated it put the whole base on high alert. For some reason, some grunt I guess, decided the best thing to do was get rid of me, so he slit my throat then and there. And I was completely convinced I was dying. There was blood, I passed out. But when I woke up, Weskham and Regis were there. They’d been nearby, I was lucky. They managed to stop the bleeding and I… lived. Of course.”

He smiled again, rubbing at his throat, tracing the old scar with his fingers. “But it never healed right. The doctors, later, said there was some kind of permanent damage done to my throat that they couldn’t fix, and it messed with my breathing and the blood flow there. And that’s what triggers the cluster headaches. I get them every few months, sometimes more often, and then they come in cycles, getting worse for a couple hours every day. So, over the years, when one came about, I’d just text Monica, and she’d tell Clarus and reorganize the guard positions so I could rest. And that was just… how it was.”

\--

Ardyn frowned, his face tense. “I...remember that,” he murmured suddenly, surprised. That had been before he’d more effectively wrested the reins of the Empire from Aldercapt, but he still clearly remembered when he’d had reported to him that one of the Crown Prince’s companions had been captured and nearly killed by some panicked soldier. It had been one of the arguments he had used to convince the top brass to switch the army rank-and-file to MTs. He’d never expected that the young man who had been captured and nearly killed was— _Cor_.

“I don’t even know how you fuck up slitting someone’s throat,” Ardyn said, after a moment, face creased with consternation. “It’s not that _hard_.” Nevertheless, whoever it was had really done a terrible job. He hadn’t even gotten a vein. “I’m just glad you lived.”

\--

Cor raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected Ardyn to say he remembered, and it was both interesting and disconcerting. Even though he knew the other man had been alive for thousands of years, it was strange to really think about the fact that Ardyn had been working for Niflheim when Cor was only fifteen, and had looked exactly the same as he did now.

“I don’t know either,” he muttered, smiling, “but I’m glad I lived, too.” He leaned up to kiss him, gently, and then sat back against the pillows, combing his fingers through Ardyn’s hair. “Any other scars you want to know about, while we’re at it? You’ve told me about all of yours, after all.” Years ago, when Cor had seen his true form for the first time. That felt like lifetimes ago now, years that must have seemed like mere minutes to his immortal King.

\--

Cor leaned forward to kiss him, Ardyn tilting his head up into it and sighing against the other man’s lips. “All of them,” he replied, without a second thought. “You never did tell me how you got the new one on your forehead. And you’ve been shot five times, you’ve never told me about those.” Ardyn paused. “And those burns, too. You’re a _fascinating_ painting, Marshal. I want _all_ the details.”

\--

Cor laughed a little under his breath. “You’re right,” he said, touching his forehead scar. “I never did…” Well, they were all either from daemons or the Niffs in one way or another, but some of them had more interesting stories to them than others.

“All right,” he said, looping his arm around Ardyn’s shoulders, holding him close. He loved how much Ardyn cared, how much he wanted to know, and he was more than happy to recount the tales of all the scars he’d earned throughout his life. “I’ll tell you about all of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9853376) works into the middle of this chapter, when Ardyn leaves to find Monica.


	16. i fell in your arms tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Cor opened the door, he was met already with the sounds of sizzling food on the stove and the scent of stir fry. He pulled off his coat, kicked off his boots, and set his sword aside, going to meet Ardyn in the kitchen.
> 
> “Ardyn,” he said, “I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [mother mother's "arms tonite"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0xdQ8ES9fc)

Cor got better. It took a few days, but by the end of it Ardyn found himself more glad than ever that neither one of them was truly alone. They needed one another to get by. Unfortunately, the Marshal being well meant he had to go back to work, hunting, and he agreed to go with what Ardyn thought was perhaps more trepidation than was required. “It’s not near as bad as you seem to think,” he told Cor, which was a bit of a lie. “I can spend three days by myself. Really, I can.”

‘Three days by himself’ turned out to really be more like a day and a half by himself and a day and a half helping Ignis translate some old texts he’d found with Talcott’s help. They were so old they were in Old Sol, and it wasn’t easy, even for Ardyn, having to wrack his brain for the cognates. He’d hated learning Old Sol as a child, and that had been a  _very_ long time ago. The intervening years had not improved his taste for the language.

When he got a text from Cor that they were on their way back to Lestallum, on the third day, Ardyn gathered up the transcribed texts and stacked them all on the Marshal’s kitchen table, and went to clean up and start dinner, making stir fry enough for one with salted jerky to bring up Cor’s nutrients after he’d been on the road.

\--

As soon as he was certain that he was completely better, and not liable to slip into a horrible migraine again without warning, it was time to get back to work. He’d been out for just under a week, and Iris needed his help for a hunt. It was going to take a while, as it was fairly far from Lestallum, and they would need to camp. He didn’t _want_ to leave Ardyn alone for that long, but the other man assured him he would be fine.

He wanted to believe that, and he trusted Ardyn’s judgement of himself, so he took Iris and left. Most daemons lurking about were very dangerous, and this one certainly was as well, but there was only one. They managed to ambush it, catching it off guard after tracking it for half a day, and took it out with the brisk efficiency he’d come to expect when the two of them worked together.

On the way back, he texted Ardyn, and they finally arrived close to dinner time. Iris immediately went back to her own small apartment to eat and take a well-deserved shower and Cor, too, was relieved to be back, and eager to get home to Ardyn.

As he opened the door, he was met already with the sounds of sizzling food on the stove and the scent of stir fry. He pulled off his coat, kicked off his boots, and set his sword aside, going to meet Ardyn in the kitchen.

“Ardyn,” he said, “I’m home.” Then, he stopped. Ardyn was there, yes, perfectly fine, which was a relief given how much Cor had worried while he was away. But not just that. Ardyn was wearing his sweat pants. _His_ sweat pants, which meant they hung low on his hips, and a tight undershirt, riding just up above his navel. He had his hair tied up, and was wearing the glasses he often wore with Altum’s face, though they looked even better with his usual glamor. He was barefoot, too, and Cor felt his stomach tie up in knots. He’d missed him so, even after only a few days, and he stared at him for a moment, his gaze slowly dropping to the other man’s stomach. The pants were hanging so low he could see his hip bones and the red curls of his public hair, and he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry, and he felt flushed, caught completely off guard.

“Are those,” he said, voice cracking, “my pants?”

\--

He heard Cor in the hallway outside the apartment before he unlocked the front door and came in, kicking off his boots and taking off his coat by the door. “So you are,” he replied, pushing the veggies around the pan, other hand on his hipbone as he looked up to glance the other man over. Cor was all in one piece; that was a good sign. He’d been _inordinately_ worried about the man. Worry assuaged, he returned to cooking, tucking a loose lock of hair back behind one ear and adjusting his glasses. He hadn’t been assed to get dressed again; Cor had seen all of it plenty of times.

When Cor just froze in the kitchen doorway, staring at him, Ardyn frowned after a moment and looked up, blinking behind his glasses. They, he knew, made his eyes a little comically large like some kind of an owl. They were for reading, and he really did need them. “Yes?” Ardyn replied after a moment, glancing down, spatula in one hand. “Is there a problem with that, suddenly?” Cor looked a little like Ardyn had ripped the rug out from under his feet. They were just pants.

\--

Ardyn just glanced at him, looking him over to confirm that he was all right, and went back to cooking, gorgeous and hardly dressed at all and making food for him just because he wanted to. Cor couldn’t have asked for anything better to come home to.

“It’s not a problem,” he said when Ardyn asked, and let out a slow, shaky breath. “Very much the opposite.” He crossed the kitchen to him, pushed himself up gently behind the other man, disturbing him as little as possible while he tried to cook, and pressed a gentle kiss to the slope of his neck. “I,” he breathed, resting his hands on Ardyn’s bare hips, because he couldn’t help himself when they were right there in plain sight. “You look… very good in them.” He turned his face into the other man’s hair, and he was trying to ignore the fact that he was half-hard but it was not easy. “I missed you.”

\--

Cor sounded breathless, and Ardyn knew he hadn’t run up the stairs. No, if he had to hazard a guess, it was something about _Ardyn_ that had left the other man seeming so ragged, and he grunted in acknowledgement as the Marshal came over and pressed up along his back. He was still mostly dressed, minus his coat, and the usual body heat that Cor gave off was dampened by the clothes he was wearing.

That said, though, when Cor got his hands on the arcs of Ardyn’s hips, fingers trailing along the sensitive skin at the waistband of his sweats, just into his pubic hair, he sighed, put upon. Cor nuzzled the back of his neck under his ponytail, getting bare skin for once rather than a mouthful of curls, and his stiffening erection dug into the crack of Ardyn’s ass, warm and just-slightly-hard, digging into him.

“I see that,” he replied, a susurrus of laughter undercutting his words as Ardyn leaned back into the other man, let Cor take his weight. “Patience is a virtue, Marshal. When the chocobo and the adamantoise race, the adamantoise wins. You can wait until you eat, I’m sure.”

\--

Ardyn leaned back into him and Cor pressed more up against him, palms on his warm skin. He breathed against the shell of his ear, face pressed up against the side of his head. He grunted quietly when Ardyn told him to be patient. “Could,” he muttered, “But…” He slid his fingers further beneath the waistband of Ardyn’s pants, and there was nothing but the sharp curve of his hips and soft skin and the curls of hair at the base of his stomach. In fact, there was nothing at all between his skin and the fabric of his pants, and Cor let out a slow, trembling breath at the realization that Ardyn wasn’t wearing any underwear at all.

The arousal hit him full force in the gut, burning, and he let out another shaky breath that was far too near to being a needy groan. He could have waited before, maybe, but his cock had jumped in his trousers and he was hard and hot all over. “Please?” he asked, hopefully, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his bare neck. “Just something, quickly. It’s been a week and a half, Ardyn.” He’d been so sick, and he’d gone out on assignment immediately after, there hadn’t been time to have any kind of sex as much as he’d wanted to. And there would always be time later, but he honestly didn’t think he could manage to eat when he was this hard.

\--

Cor ignored him completely, slid his fingers under Ardyn’s waistband, and then froze with a long, slow shaky breath as his fingers curled against the bottom of Ardyn’s pubic hair. “Don’t make a mess of your sweats, Marshal,” Ardyn murmured, distracted, as he focused on the food. Cor ignored him completely and pushed closer, shaky breathing, and his cock stiffening rapidly against the swell of Ardyn’s ass, poking into him hopefully.

He just grunted. “Cor,” Ardyn sighed, tilting his head to let the other man kiss, needy and wet, at his neck, curling his toes in pleasure at the way Cor’s road-stubble scraped over his throat, “I’m _cooking_ and you are all in a _food shortage_.” Cor wasn’t listening in the slightest. “You’re almost _fifty_ ,” he added, amused and annoyed at turns, shifting slightly to give Cor somewhere to jab his erection. “You can wait a half an hour to get laid. Or at least let me finish cooking.”

\--

Ardyn was completely focused on the food, but he didn’t exactly make any effort to shove Cor away either, just complained at him, which was typical. So Cor stayed where he was, pressed up behind the other man hopefully, nuzzling his neck. He definitely liked how much easier it was to get to his throat with Ardyn’s hair tied out of the way. He could actually get to his skin without having to shove all those curls aside.

“I’m not _that_ old,” he grumbled, “Fifty is nothing. I’m middle-aged.” He smiled against the soft skin just beneath Ardyn’s ear, his breath shaky, his heart thudding in his chest from having him so close, so warm against him. “I won’t be able to eat like this,” he muttered, wrapping one arm around him, splaying his fingers across the base of his stomach. “What if I want you to cook and pay attention to me at the same time. I won’t require much.”

\--

Cor didn’t back off because Ardyn didn’t tell him to—didn’t _want_ him to. Instead, the other man just tucked closer, nuzzling his neck and murmuring hot puffs of breath into his skin. “You’re supposed to have less sex when you’re older,” Ardyn replied, a little moan touching into the back of his throat when Cor wrapped an arm around his waist, broad palm fitting over the bottom of his stomach. They were the same damn height, but Cor’s hands seemed always somehow bigger than his. “You can eat and deal with a boner,” he snapped, without heat, but still sighed.

Ardyn looked over his shoulder at Cor and, put-upon, shook his head. “You,” he told the other man, “Are a menace. But, fine.” Shifting to the side, Ardyn turned and put a palm to Cor’s chest, backed him up into the edge of the counter and pinned him there, then set down his spatula to undo the other man’s fly, leaning up to kiss him properly for the first time since he’d gotten back, pulling his already-hard erection out of his slacks and stroking it from root to tip to slick it in his palm, biting at Cor’s lower lip. “Do you think you can keep an eye on the pan to make sure it doesn’t burn while I blow you?”

\--

“I can have as much sex as I want to,” he mumbled quietly into the other man’s skin. Even when Ardyn snapped at him, it sounded more affectionate than anything, and Cor smiled, kissing his neck again, laughing under his breath.

He was nearly grinning when Ardyn gave him that put-upon look that told Cor he was going to get what he wanted, and that Ardyn wasn’t nearly as put-upon as he pretended to be. He let the other man pin him back against the counter, tangling his fingers into Ardyn’s hair and tugging him closer as they kissed. It felt like ages since their lips had met, and he melted into it, breathing slow and shaky as Ardyn pulled his cock out of his trousers, moaning as he stroked it.

“Yes,” he said, already breathless. “I can do that.” He stroked the other man’s hair beneath his ponytail, leaning back against the counter, swallowing hard. “I can definitely do that.”

\--

Cor pulled him closer, fingers tangled under his ponytail, and Ardyn huffed against his mouth. “If you burn it, you still eat it.” Cor leaned back against the counter and Ardyn handed him the spatula to deal with the food and half-knelt, bent over to settle on his heels at Cor’s feet, tugging his erection further out, grabbing his balls and coaxing them through the y-front of his boxers, squeezing them gently in his palm as he slicked his hand down Cor’s shaft again and licked over his slit, coaxing a few drops of pre onto his tongue before he pulled back, wincing, nose curled.

“Cor,” Ardyn asked, jerking him off slow and steady, “Did you _shower_ on the road?”

\--

If Ardyn hadn’t been cooking, he would have pulled his ponytail out, tangled his fingers tighter into those curls, held him close by them. Instead he just pushed his fingers beneath it, pressed them against the back of his skull. “I will,” he promised, and took the spatula.

Ardyn bent down, pulled out his cock and his balls and Cor hissed between his teeth when Ardyn squeezed them. He _did_ like that, and the way the other man touched him, warm palm moving down his length. When he licked the tip, Cor groaned quietly, leaning back against the counter and closing his eyes for a moment. Then Ardyn stopped and Cor looked down at him, and the face he was making.

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “We had to camp, of course I didn’t.” He furrowed his brow. It had only been a few days, but he _had_ been out there fighting daemons and sleeping on the ground. “I was going to shower when I got home. And then I got distracted.”

\--

Cor had slumped half back against the counter and was staring down at him when Ardyn glared up at him. “Disgusting,” Ardyn muttered. “You are disgusting.” Cor kept himself very clean regardless; it wasn’t the dirtiest dick Ardyn had ever sucked. He still grumbled, put-upon, as he went back down on Cor. “You owe me one,” he told the Marshal, quite seriously, before he licked the slit of his cock again and started to go down on him properly, slicking his shaft with one hand and squeezing his balls with the other as he sucked on the head of his cock, tongue digging in hard to the soft flesh of his glans, swirling around the head, suction and pressure on the tip of him.

\--

“You sucked me off behind a diner when we met,” he pointed out. “And _now_ you’re complaining?” He sighed at him, pressing his fingers back beneath his ponytail. “I don’t owe you anythi—” He broke off, gasping as Ardyn licked at him again and took him into his mouth, and it was all glorious heat around his cock, the head against the other man’s tongue and the rest in the palm of his hand, and Ardyn was squeezing his balls, too, so much he  was already losing his mind and he slumped backwards, moaning.

With one hand, he coaxed Ardyn closer, the other still holding the spatula, and that was the only thing that reminded him he was supposed to be keeping an eye on the food, too, because otherwise it felt like the entirety of his brain had dropped directly into his dick.

\--

Ardyn pulled off Cor’s dick and looked up through his lashes at the other man, licking his slit again. “Yes,” he replied, eyebrows cocked, “But we weren’t _living together_ then.” Cor had also choked him almost to passing out, and he never did that anymore; entirely too gentle for Ardyn’s tastes, but he knew why the man didn’t. “I mean, you’re more than welcome to fuck my face, Cor. Six know that’s rather the point of having no gag reflex, but if y—”

He never got to finish what he was saying, because Cor took that moment as the opportunity to dig fingers into the bottom of his ponytail and drag Ardyn down his dick with a surprised yelp until he’d shoved past into the top of his throat, Ardyn’s jaw forced wide, and he moaned in shaky, pleased surprise.

Cor always did have a short temper.

\--

It was amazing, how Ardyn was still able to mouth off while he was sucking his dick. He always managed it, somehow, and it should have been a given that it would come to this, Cor dragging the other man down on his cock until he was sighing in pleasure, enjoying the heat and the the sound Ardyn made as he pulled him in close and shoved his dick down his throat.

Cor echoed the moan, rubbing at the back of Ardyn’s neck. “That’s more like it,” he muttered, rolled his hips forward as he started fucking down into his throat, groaning at the way it felt. At this rate he didn’t even care if his food burned, because Ardyn hadn’t sucked his dick like that in ages and he’d almost forgotten how incredibly good it felt to have his cock on the other man’s tongue, head against the back of his throat, to have Ardyn moaning around him like that.

\--

Ardyn couldn’t even muster a glare, because he really was enjoying Cor fucking the back of his throat like if he didn’t Ardyn was going to start bitching again—which wasn’t wrong. Cor seemed overwhelmed by the sensations, moaning and dragging him closer, pulling his curls free in individual ringlets. Ardyn barely had to do any work, just had to duck lower and rumble a pleased sound in the back of his throat and suck, and Cor would get himself there all on his own.

\--

Ardyn shifted a little, and made a pleased, rumbling sound that reverberated through Cor’s dick and all up his spine and he shuddered and moaned. Pulling him closer, he fucked against the back of his throat harder, jerking his hips and gasping.

“Ardyn,” he moaned, doubling over a little, curling his fingers so tight into the hair at the back of his neck he was starting to work his ponytail free without even intending to, and he helplessly rocked his hips forward as though he could somehow get in deeper, fuck more of his throat. Ardyn sucking on him was driving him mad, and he moaned louder. He was thinking, too, about the times he’d choked the other man while Ardyn sucked his dick, and found himself sliding his fingers down to the back of his neck, palm pressed to his warm skin, holding onto his throat but not squeezing. Just holding him, rubbing his thumb up against the edge of his jaw, feeling how open his mouth was, to get his cock inside.

He was close, so very close, and only the sound of the food crackling wildly on the stove as it simmered kept him coherent at all. When he glanced at it, stilling in the other man’s mouth for a moment and leaning back against the counter again, gasping for breath, it was starting to look very well browned. He rested the spatula on Ardyn’s shoulder, though he still held him close by his hair. “The food,” he managed.

\--

Cor was so far gone already, half doubled over, dragging on his hair, Ardyn’s curls spilling out against the back of his neck. He made a hot and bothered noise as Cor’s broad fingers slid around his throat, knuckling over his trachea, and clenched down just as a _weight_. He had to close his eyes, suddenly more than a little aroused himself. It had been so long since Cor had crushed his throat, so long, _too_ long, and he wanted more desperately. He wanted Cor to fuck his throat and break it.

Ardyn shifted, and whimpered as his cock dug hard into his thigh, slung low and throbbing in his sweats. Before he could do any more, though, Cor poked him with the spatula and Ardyn grunted, pulled off the other man’s cock with a slick, wet _pop_ as it sprung from between his lips, and hissed as he dragged himself to his feet, using the stove and the cabinets as support for his bad leg.

He wobbled for a moment, rebalancing, and then snatched the spatula from Cor. “You know how to stir,” he chided the other man, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth to get the worst of the pre off of his lips, and absently wrapped his hand around Cor’s dick, still awkwardly half-bent in front of him, as he quickly shoved the stir fry around, turned down the heat, his hair falling the rest of the way to spill freely over his face as he prepared to turn back to finish what he’d started, jacking Cor off until he could get his lips back around the head of his erection.

\--

Ardyn made the most beautiful noise around his cock when Cor curled his fingers around his throat, and he let out a slow, shaky breath. Ardyn was losing it, too, undoubtedly. He’d always loved having his throat fucked, loved Cor choking him even more. It had been a long time since he’d done that for him.

When Cor prodded him, though, Ardyn pulled off and Cor let out a trembling breath, panting. He grabbed the other man’s elbow, helped him to his feet, and oh, he was beautiful with his lips red and wet and his pupils wide and his hair falling out of his ponytail, his glasses smudged.

He was too out of breath to care much about Ardyn chiding him, and just let out a shaky, grateful breath when the other man took his cock in hand again as he tended to the food. His hair was falling free, wild curls all over his face—and he was so gorgeous. Cor pushed himself up onto the counter to make it easier, sitting on the edge so that Ardyn wouldn’t have to bend down as much, and he was getting closer by the instant.

It was much easier like that, and he rocked his hips into Ardyn’s hand, gasping, tangled his fingers back into his hair and pulled him closer, moaning. “Ardyn,” he groaned, and that was all the warning he had, because he was thinking too much about the way Ardyn looked with his cock down his throat, about leaving handprint bruises on his neck, and fucking him to tears, and then he thought about kneeling for Ardyn and serving him and he came, hard and sudden, before the other man could even get his mouth on him again.

\--

Cor dragged him back over with a hand in his hair, Ardyn snarling “Hold on,” but he never got any further, because Cor rocked his cock up into Ardyn’s fist and then came between his fingers completely suddenly, Ardyn jerking back reflexively but still not fast enough to avoid stripes of semen over his face, splattering his hair, glasses, cheeks, and lips. “Oh,” Ardyn stroked Cor’s cock down in the afterglow until he stopped twitching for it, straightened the rest of the way, and glared at the other man, sucking Cor’s come off of his fingertips and lips. “ _Honestly_ , Cor. Could you not wait two seconds and have at least let me swallow it?”

\--

Ardyn tried to stop him, and to some degree Cor tried to stop himself, but it was already far too late. He groaned, flushing terribly but smiling when he realized he’d come all over Ardyn’s face almost entirely by accident. Ardyn stroked him off through the rest of his trembling orgasm and he sighed, steadying himself on Ardyn’s shoulder.

When his eyes were able to focus, again, he stared at Ardyn as the other man licked his come off his fingers. “Oh,” he said, far too incoherent. “Sorry about that.” He grinned, though, reaching over to stroke his hair on the cleaner side. “You look good, though.” And he did, with Cor’s come dripping down his face and his eyes bright and intense, and he pulled him closer again, even though Ardyn was technically still trying to cook.

\--

Cor was grinning at him. “You aren’t the least bit sorry,” Ardyn told him, glaring through his come-splattered glasses. At least it had kept his eyes clean. He sighed. “Well, now you’ve made this mess, I suppose I’m going to have to deal with it.” Shaking his head, he served up Cor’s dinner and set it before the other man, on the table, and tore off a paper towel to wipe some of the ejaculate out of his hair. It was going to be an absolute nightmare, sticky and gross, to clean if he didn’t do it now. Once it dried he was shit out of luck.

“I have to take a shower now,” Ardyn huffed taking his glasses off and rinsing them in the sink. “Since you made a mess of me.” He did take a little bit too much glee in leaning forward and wiping a streak of Cor’s come off onto his cheek as he kissed the other man, squeezed his hand. “I’m glad that you’re home.”

\--

Cor snorted at him. True. He wasn’t really sorry at all. It would wash out, and the more he looked at the mess he had made of other man, the more pleased he was with himself.

Sliding off the counter, he tucked himself back into his trousers and sat at the table, sighing quietly as Ardyn served him his dinner. He felt much more relaxed now, and terribly affectionate. “I’ll shower, too, when I’m finished,” he said, watching Ardyn out of the corner of his eye as he started to eat. He leaned away a little when Ardyn reached out to wipe a smear of come across his cheek but grinned, kissed him back, and brought Ardyn’s hand to his lips, kissing his fingers, too. “Thank you,” he muttered. “It’s good to be back.”

\--

The coming months, the better part of another year gone away waiting for the King of Light, passed both faster and slower than he would have liked. Soon enough Ardyn found Cor’s fiftieth birthday approaching, and with it the inevitable party. He had numerous bad days, including one memorable one that he’d just spent tied up and _not_ in a sexy way, but a lull had come in them, and Cor had gone out on a hunt, taking advantage of Ardyn’s improving condition. He’d come back with a bad scrape on his face, a sprained wrist, and his bike pretty badly banged up. Iris had fared slightly worse, with a broken leg and a minor concussion, and Ardyn had happily taken over caring for the both of them.

Ardyn was no healer, not any longer, but he had never stopped enjoying taking care of other people. It gave him something to _do_. It meant that he constantly had something on his mind, some place to turn his energy to, rather than toward the daemons.

When Cor was well enough, Ardyn helped him drag his badly wrecked bike back upright, and Ardyn propped it there with his weight, since the balance was off and the kickstand had been lost, as Cor started to get to work repairing it. “Are you sure you don’t want to take it in to Hammerhead? Or at least over to Cid’s garage?”

\--

He was going to turn fifty whether he liked it or not. And though he joked often enough that he was still plenty young, it was a difficult milestone to face, and the older he got, the more and more clear Ardyn’s immortality became. For all that Cor had aged, Ardyn hadn’t changed at all, and though it didn’t make it easy, it did make facing Ardyn’s inevitable end a little less difficult to bear. He wouldn’t have wished on the man to continue on as Cor grew old and died. He wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone, after that.

Until then, all he could do was keep moving, and do his job, and take care of Ardyn when he needed it. And jobs gone bad weren’t completely unusual. He was used to coming back with a few scrapes and bruises, but the daemons were getting stronger, there was no doubt about that, and he and Iris had gone in unprepared for what they were up against.

They were lucky they made it out alive, and with as few injuries as they both returned with. His motorcycle had taken the worst of it, but motorcycles could be repaired. As soon as he was well enough, after a good week or so under Ardyn’s tender, loving care, he got to work.

He’d repaired his motorcycle from minor mishaps often enough that he knew what to do, and he wore an old pair of trousers and a t-shirt as he set down his tools and sat down at the motorcycle’s back end, picking out his wrench. “That would be pointless,” he told Ardyn. “Worse comes to worse, I’ll ask Cid to come around and give me a hand.”

\--

Cor crouched down on the tarmac with a lot less ease than he would have had when they met, his motions stiff and disjunct. “She’s pretty bust up,” he told Cor, leaning over the chassis as he watched the other man work, wrench in hand. “You could get some body repairs done there, at least.” Ardyn, who had done all his own modifications after he had inherited his trash heap of a car, had no room to talk. But still.

There was rather a lot to be said for how good Cor looked on his hands and knees. He’d look even better with grease and oil on his face and hands. “You couldn’t do this shirtless?” Ardyn continued, changing tack entirely, his chin in his hands. “Or at least in an undershirt? I should be getting _some_ compensation for holding your bike up for you.” It wasn’t a lot of effort, but he wasn’t the strongest person, even with magic on his side.

\--

“Yeah,” he sighed as he pulled the dented plating off from around the engine and started checking the parts. “She’s in bad shape, but I still want to do what I can.” That area was definitely the most beat up, and it looked like a good bit of it would need replacing. That daemon had thrown him and Iris off the bike and tossed it a good ways after that, thankfully without either of them on it. “It’s a long way to Hammerhead, I’d probably have to get Cindy to come out here and tow it. It’d be easier to fix it here.”

He smiled, though, when Ardyn practically asked him to take his shirt off. Ardyn was really so predictable, but he didn’t mind in the least. “You just want to see me covered in sweat and motor oil,” he sighed, shaking his head, but even if Ardyn had mostly been jabbing at him, he went ahead and pulled his shirt off anyway. It was old, and he’d probably end up using it as a rag at some point, so that might as well start now. Not to mention that it was hot in Lestallum as always, and it would feel hotter as soon as he started exerting himself. He balled the shirt up and set it aside, checking all of the bike’s belts to see if any of them had snapped. “Now how is that?”

\--

Ardyn looked at Cor like he was an idiot. “Well,” he replied, “Of course? I didn’t try to _hide_ it, Marshal. A man can have needs.” Cor pulled his shirt off to indulge him and Ardyn sighed in happiness, fluttering his eyelashes and smiling down at him. “You’d look good sweaty and covered in motor oil.” Ardyn was just standing there as dead weight to balance the bike against, but what he was really doing was enjoying the view as Cor started to get down on the ground.

In the Lestallum floodlights, Ardyn could clearly see where the grey was creeping into Cor’s beard, changing the colour of his chest and arm and back hair. It was still more brown than grey everywhere but on his head, but how much longer would that be true? “Much better,” he said after another minute, significantly delayed in his response because of watching the tan skin of Cor’s broad back, scarred from years of fighting, rippling as he bent over, muscles standing out against the bones of his shoulders and spine.

\--

There was a long pause before Ardyn finally responded to his question, and Cor smiled to himself, rather pleased. He loved how much the other man liked to look at him, loved the way Ardyn had stop to stare, and the way he fluttered his eyelashes and smiled as he admired him. No one else had ever looked at him like that, and he was more than happy to let Ardyn see as much as he wanted.

“Happy to serve, Your Majesty,” he said, hardly even thinking about it. It just felt… natural, like it had when he’d called Regis by the same title, for so many years, even though his heart thudded in his chest afterwards. He’d never said it outside of the bedroom, and he was incredibly grateful that the two of them were alone. It must have been something about the way Ardyn was looking at him, and the ensuing silence that had drawn that out, but the fact that he was on the ground with his face practically shoved into his motorcycle’s engine made it easier to pretend like it was nothing and smile to himself as he dug in deeper. A couple of the parts had been completely ruined and he shook his head. “This is worse than I thought.”

\--

Ardyn giggled when Cor called him Your Majesty, and leaned over to rub the dip of Cor’s chest over his sternum, fingers scraping through his chest hair. “Be careful slinging that around, Marshal,” he warned, fingers brushing up his collarbones, “You’re going to get us both in trouble if you talk like that.” He shifted slightly, his bare foot placed between Cor’s legs, and dragged his toes over Cor’s powerful thighs, stretching his jeans. “You sure you don’t want to call Cid?”

\--

Ardyn laughed, fingers brushing his chest, and Cor stopped what he was doing to look up at him. “I know,” he assured him, breath catching in his throat as Ardyn’s fingers trailed along his collarbones. “But we’re alone.” He was suddenly very, very aware of Ardyn’s foot between his legs, and sucked in a breath when he felt his toes dragging along the inside of his thigh. It made his skin prickle, made his stomach tight.

“I don’t need Cid,” he said, even though his tongue felt heavy, and the roof of his mouth was dry. “Not yet, at least.”

\--

Cor slid far enough back out from under the bike to look at him, his eyes bright and lips half-parted with some unspoken censure. Ardyn just smiled back at him with way more teeth than he needed, and fluttered his lashes. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sorry in the _slightest_ , “Am I distracting you, Marshal? I don’t mean to bother you, I can stop.” He stilled his foot, his bare toes curling into the rough texture of the tarmac, as he waited for some response from his boyfriend.

\--

When Ardyn fluttered his lashes at him like that, Cor flushed terribly. The other man wasn’t sorry at all, no more sorry than Cor was for calling him by his title in a public space, even if there was no one else around.

“No,” he said, when Ardyn offered to stop. It was distracting, yes, but fixing his motorcycle wasn’t incredibly urgent. And he was shirtless on the ground with Ardyn looking at him like he wanted to devour him. Cor just spread his legs a little more. “Keep going.”

\--

“Well, don’t waste time either. I’d hate for you to spend all day on something that could easily be dealt with far quicker.” Ardyn shifted his foot up and curled his toes around Cor’s neglected half-hard erection, dug the ball of his foot into Cor’s balls through his jeans. “Don’t let me take your mind off of your work, Cor.”

\--

Cor let out a shaky breath, looking up at him. “It’s hard to safely work on the engine you know,” he began, as Ardyn shifted his foot up to brush his cock, which was just beginning to press up against the front of his jeans. “When you’re doing that.” His mouth was very dry now, his face flushed, and Ardyn just touching him gently like that, the curve of his foot against his half-hard erection felt incredible. He didn’t want him to stop, regardless of whether there was work he should have been doing. He did try, though, attempting to turn his attention back to checking the parts.

\--

“Doing what?” Ardyn replied, guileless eyes wide, and accompanied the statement by leaning his heel down into Cor’s balls, drawn up high and tight already. Cor was flushed on his upper chest and neck, and Ardyn sighed. “You’re going to have to focus. I don’t want to stand here holding this bike up all day, Marshal. I’m a little old for that.” As he said it, though, Ardyn heard—

“Altum!”

Straightening, tucking an errant curl behind his ear, adjusting his glasses, he noticed Iris standing across the lot, _fortunately_ on the side that she couldn’t see Cor half under his bike. “Hello, Iris!” He called back, waving a brief greeting as he took that moment to spread his toes over where the head of Cor’s dick was leaking just behind his fly.

\--

“You know what.” Cor frowned at him, but it was hard to be too annoyed at him when his brain was very quickly falling into his dick again, and it didn’t help that Ardyn was digging his heel into his balls. Cor swallowed down a very untoward moan. And of course Ardyn was telling him he had to keep working. He cursed under his breath, panting. Ardyn was a menace, but Cor was going to do what he wanted anyway.

When he heard Iris’s voice, he froze, then very quickly tried to focus on the engine, taking out the parts that needed replacing. He’d have to get new ones, he didn’t have them on hand. Cid probably did, though. And he tried to consider that, as Ardyn talked to Iris so casually, simultaneously pressing his toes over the head of his cock. He gulped down another moan, taking in slow, shaky breaths, and praying she didn’t come too close.

\--

She came a little closer, crutches clicking, and he remained where he was, totally blasé, even as he rolled his foot over Cor’s dick, humming to himself. “Have you seen the Marshal?” Iris asked, her brows furrowed. “I needed to ask him about something.”

“Is your concussion really well enough that you should be out of bed?” He replied instead. She nodded.

“Yeah, they cleared me a couple days ago, think the potions took care of most of it. Just gotta wait for my leg to be knitted before I put a ton of weight on it.”

“Well, I’m glad that you’re doing better. You really need to be careful on those hunts, he relies on you a great deal, you know.” Iris flushed at the praise, and Ardyn accompanied it by digging his heel into Cor’s balls again and shifting slightly, letting the bike and his bad leg share his weight as he leaned more into Cor’s cock. “Anyway, he’s not here. He left me holding his bike up while he ran to pick something up from Cid.” He rolled his eyes, put upon. “Which I can assure you, is _not_ the intended use for a boyfriend.” Iris burst into laughter, and Ardyn smiled, rolling the head of Cor’s jean-clad cock between his toes again in affection. “I will have him come by your apartment whenever he gets back from Cid’s, if that’s amenable to you.”

“Sure,” she nodded. “It’s not urgent, anyway. I was just out for a walk with my brother and figured I’d go up there and see if you guys were in and just saw you down here, so, I’ll just talk to him when he’s back. Thanks, Altum!”

“My pleasure,” he assured her. “Anytime at all, Iris. You know where to find me.”

\--

Cor could hear Iris coming towards them and shuddered quietly as she and Ardyn conversed. He’d stopped looking at the engine entirely, instead just staying where he was, still and quiet, trying not to let out any sounds that might give him away. His breath was heavy, all of him tense, and he was almost certain Iris would be able to hear his heart pounding from where she was standing, it was so loud in his ears.

Ardyn was really just being his absolute usual self, worrying about Iris, flirting a little just because it was him, and Cor hissed out a quiet breath as he felt the man’s heel pressing down against his balls, squeezing them. He nearly sobbed, and just barely bit it back.

It was strange, hearing Ardyn talk about him like he wasn’t there, but a little sweet at the same time. His comment made Iris laugh, and Cor smiled, too, because that was definitely something he would do even though he hadn’t, and Ardyn was just casually curling his toes around the head of his cock, enough to make him suck in a quiet breath and nothing more.

As he heard Iris walk away, her crutches clicking rhythmically on the pavement, he finally let himself moan, softly under his breath, and pressed his hips against the other man’s toes.

\--

As soon as Iris was gone, Cor moaned little and ragged under his breath, arching his hips up off of the ground and into Ardyn’s foot. He looked down at the other man and sighed, eyes half-lidded. “You want something?” He asked, trailing his fingers over his lower lip. “Because I’m afraid I’m just not sure exactly what it is that you want, Marshal. You might have to tell me.” He didn’t let up with the pressure he was exerting, but didn’t increase it, either.

Cor knew how to ask.

\--

Ardyn looked down at him and knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t going to give it to him unless he asked. And Cor loved it. The look in Ardyn’s eyes sent a shock of arousal straight to his dick, and he panted quietly and looked up at his king like he was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and he was.

“Please,” he said softly, all of him tense, his heart still pounding, his cock straining against the front of his jeans. “Make me come like this, Your Majesty.”

\--

Ardyn made a pleased noise. “If that’s what you want,” he said at last, as if put upon, and found a spot that let him both stroke Cor’s shaft as well as squeeze the head of his dick and dig his heel into his balls. “You really like me hurting your cock,” he murmured, eyes hot and lidded as he said it. “I guess I should do it more often.” Experimentally, he leaned down a little harder onto Cor, letting the man’s erection take more of his weight, felt it throb against the sole of his foot. “You want to make a mess of your jeans for me, Cor?”

\--

“It is,” Cor assured him. He wanted that. Until that point, it was never something he thought he would have wanted but with Ardyn leaning up over him, the other man’s foot firmly planted over his cock and balls, he couldn’t imagine _not_ wanting this. As Ardyn stroked him and squeezed him, Cor felt like he was on fire, wildly flushed and breathless as the other man muttered his realization. He hadn’t known he wanted _that_ , either, and he didn’t think it was so much the pain as the sheer power Ardyn could exert when he wanted to, and how much Cor trusted him, and the look on the other man’s face as he stepped on him.

Cor took his weight, groaning. His cock throbbed helplessly, ached, _hurt_ , and he just stared up at Ardyn, completely breathless. “Yes,” he said, voice almost cracking. “Yes, I do. Gods, I do.”

\--

Cor’s broad forehead and neck both were flushed and splotchy, sweat standing out against the motor oil he’d wiped onto his skin, the tendons in his throat and jaw raised and visible. He looked strangely vulnerable, and it was a good look for him.

Ardyn wanted to do this again, with nobody there but them, in their apartment. He was almost certain that it would be even better there. Instead, he just nonchalantly leaned forward and in one, possibly-too-hard motion, dug his heel into Cor’s tight balls and pushed forward with his toes and dragged his foot sharply up the other man’s erection, all friction and pressure with the arch of his foot on his length, and then back down again to spread the weight over the whole of his member, smiling down at him cruelly. “Does it hurt?” He asked, tender as blunt nails. “And you’re going to come all the harder for it, aren’t you?” Cor loved what Ardyn could do to him, and he bent slightly further over to jam the other man’s cock down, hard, into his pelvis, to see if Cor would come apart with nothing but the implicit threat and Ardyn’s name on his lips.

\--

Ardyn dug his heel in and Cor’s eyes went wide, lips parted as he stared up at him. He let out a quiet, desperate moan, and Ardyn was leaning onto his cock so hard, it hurt so much. “ _Yes_ ,” he sobbed, and sobbed, and pressed his hips up into that horrible, wonderful pressure. He felt like Ardyn was going to crush him under his heel, knew that he could so easily, and the sheer power the other man had over him as Cor spread his legs helplessly beneath him, and the look on the other man’s face, and the gentle poison in his voice made him all the harder, and that just made it hurt more.

“Please,” he gasped, because he knew he was, he was going to come, and as Ardyn leaned down, shoved against him harder, he could feel his cock helplessly slammed between the bone of his pelvis and the curve of Ardyn’s foot. Cor let out a wet, choking sound as he came hard in his pants, moaning as he soaked himself, leaning back on the pavement and sobbing weakly for it. He gasped for breath, arching his hips up as he rode it out. “Ardyn,” he got out under his breath. “Ardyn, Ardyn.”

\--

Cor’s eyes were huge, his lips parted, and he sounded like he was about to start crying, rocking his hips up into Ardyn’s foot. He came moments later, a choking sound low in his throat rather than a moan, hips arched up and the rest of him prone, trembling. Ardyn could feel the other man’s come behind his fly, wet and sloppy, and he winced, lifted his foot off of Cor’s crotch, and wished he could let go of his bike to bend down and check on him. Ardyn was hard (how could he not be, when Cor had all-but-begged for Ardyn to break him and then _come like that_ , and he looked beautiful as he did, just utterly ruined outside and in) but he was more worried about Cor than he was about his own arousal.

“Cor,” he said, breathless and grating with arousal, watching the other man’s shattered face, “This is _definitely_ not fixing your bike.”

\--

He just stayed there for a long moment after it was done. There were stars behind his eyes, and he felt almost blissfully out of it, his mind gone blank as he caught his breath. When Ardyn said his name, Cor looked up at him and finally sat up, grunting. He was just about at eye level with Ardyn’s dick, hard in the other man’s pants, and he let out a shaky breath.

“No,” he said as he shifted, frowning at the discomfort of moving about with the front of his jeans soaked. “It isn’t.” Cor grimaced and, using the bike as support, pulled himself slowly to his feet. His knees trembled. His cock hurt. It was probably going to hurt for a while, but he was far more distracted by the mess than the residual pain. “This is disgusting,” he said, voice just a little slurred. “I need to change. And you,” he turned to Ardyn, gently leaned against him. “You need something.” He pressed his face into Ardyn’s shoulder, letting out another slow, uneven breath. “Let’s go back. I’ll fix it later.”

\--

Cor sat up and seemed out of it enough that Ardyn was immediately worried that he’d hurt the other man. As he tried to stand up, Ardyn offered his hand, and grabbed Cor’s tight in his, hauling the Marshal to his feet. He wasn’t light, but Ardyn was plenty strong, and he loosely placed his free hand against Cor’s waist as the other man stumbled to regain his balance, letting his good leg take the weight of the bike.

Cor’s voice was slurred when he spoke, and the almost overwhelming amount of affection Ardyn felt toward the other man blindsided him, left him breathless. Cor leaned against his side, face tucked into his shoulder, breath hot against the slope of Ardyn’s neck. “You sound terrible,” he said, laughing, without a bit of heat in it, kissing Cor’s jaw. “I can wait; Six know it isn’t urgent. We should clean you up.”

\--

Cor held tight to the other man’s hand, leaning more against him, just to feel him close, grateful for the help and the affection. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He was finally starting to feel like he was catching his breath, coming back to himself a little bit more. That had definitely been… something. Unexpected, but he’d liked it. Very much so.

“Just leave the bike here,” he muttered. “I’ll need to get Cid for the parts, anyway.” He really just wanted to clean up, and then take care of Ardyn.

Thankfully no one he knew saw them or thought to look too hard as they went back up to their apartment. He held onto Ardyn’s hand, walking uncomfortably. When they got upstairs, he immediately went to the bathroom to get his trousers off, to clean himself up.

\--

Ardyn found himself surprised by how unsettled he was by Cor’s insensibility after his orgasm, and practically plastered himself to the other man all the way back to their apartment after they’d cleaned up from repairing the bike, hand on Cor’s bare stomach, his castoff shirt tucked under Ardyn’s arm, feeling the beat of his heart through his skin. When they reached the apartment and Cor went to clean up, Ardyn sprawled against the doorframe of the bathroom and watched him, still dazed and wide-eyed, and smiled.

“You’re getting a little old for that,” Ardyn murmured, fingers playing with his hair through the glamour, curling through the strands, up by his jaw where it was actually cut. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to start acting fifty sooner or later, Marshal.”

\--

Ardyn was being sweet, clinging to him, and he certainly appreciated it. The touch was more than welcome, he wanted that affection. Ardyn even watched him as he pulled his soaked jeans and boxers off in the bathroom.

Cor snorted at him, wetting a washcloth to wipe himself down and sighing at how much better that felt. He’d have to thoroughly wash his clothes later on, but for the time being he soaked them in the sink, before they got even more sticky and stained.

“Maybe,” he said to him. It was true, though, he was definitely not getting any younger. His muscles and joints were more stiff than they used to be, and he was slower to react. When he turned the water off, he turned to look at Ardyn, lounging in the doorframe, and he looked gorgeous and dangerous and regal. Cor was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was completely naked before the other man, and walked over to him, kissed his jawline. “You’re worried about me,” he said gently, and smiled. “It’s sweet.”

\--

Cor stripped and scrubbed off, and Ardyn watched as he balled his jeans up in the sink and then looked back over at him. Ardyn kept noticing, over and over, how much older the other man looked. The greying in his chest and arm hair; the way his fat sat heavier on his midsection than it had seven and a half years prior, his muscle mass changing with age.

When Cor came over to kiss him, Ardyn tangled his fingers in the short hair at the nape of the other man’s neck, hummed into his mouth. “You aren’t normally so lost for words,” he said, their noses brushing. “I was terribly afraid that I’d finally passed your limits.”

\--

Their lips met, and Ardyn’s fingers curled into his hair. Cor let out a quiet half-laugh against his lips. “No,” he muttered. “No. It was just…” He paused, humming, trying to find the words to describe it. “Well. It took my breath way. Made me feel… dazed, but in a good way.” He smiled reassuringly, kissed him gently again. “I liked it. I just didn’t know I would like it so much.”

He pressed the two of them closer together, kissed the underside of Ardyn’s chin, always covered in stubble, and trailed kisses down his throat, sighing quietly. And then, slowly, he sank to his knees. He wanted, for once, to willingly kneel for him, and not just do it because he was told. He’d always loved being on his knees for him, but it was different, doing it without Ardyn having to ask. “Let me,” he murmured, looking up at him, pressing his hands to the other man’s dick, where he was still hot and just a little bit hard, and undid his fly. “Let me please you.”

\--

Cor laughed briefly against his lips, and Ardyn resolutely tried to ignore the painful bloom of affection behind his breastbone, even as he leaned into the other man’s touch, hummed. “Well,” he murmured, scraping his teeth over Cor’s lower lip as he spoke, “You always did love to flirt with death, Marshal.” Cor pulled away from him then, kissed the underside of his chin, his throat, and then dropped to his knees, his high cheekbones stained red with residual flush, chapped lips parted.

Cor pressed his hands to Ardyn’s fly, gripping his semi, and undid the zip. Ardyn shuddered at his words, swallowed, hard, and then nodded once briefly as he could _feel_ his eyes dilate. There was something about the way Cor had said that, nearly begging with it, his voice cracked, that made Ardyn want to do really. Terrible. Things to him.

“Be my guest, Marshal,” Ardyn said at last, carding his fingers through Cor’s short hair, strands tickling his palm “I’m not one to say no to obeisance.”

\--

Ardyn’s fingers ran through his hair, and Cor could feel the other man arching into him, tensing under his hands. He smiled, and gently pulled his cock out into the air, pressing his forehead against the base of his stomach as he breathed along his length. He’d been satisfied already, and now all he wanted was to be there, naked on his knees for him, to worship and please him.

He kissed the side of Ardyn’s cock reverently, holding it gently in his palm, lingering for a moment before he brought his lips to the head. He breathed against him, mouthed at the tip, and stroked him slowly in his palm, to coax him back to a fuller hardness. Cor could take his time like this, and he wanted to, until Ardyn grew desperate enough to fuck his throat, until he could feel his King coming apart from his touch.

\--

Cor looked good, naked and vulnerable and hungry for Ardyn’s touch, on his knees and nearly begging, just wanting and wanting. Something so good that Ardyn found himself wanting more of it. The other man took his time, sliding Ardyn’s cock out of his fly, slicking his length and mouthing at the head, trying to coax him back to full hardness. Not that he had to try hard, not when Cor was already naked, his cock hanging pendulous and soft and _bruised_ between his thighs, raw after Ardyn had ruined it.

“Do you want me to fuck your face, Marshal?” Ardyn asked, voice an octave lower than it usually was, grating in his throat. “Do you want to warm my cock with your throat?”

\--

He still felt completely relaxed, the remains of the afterglow humming in his bones, his cock sore between his thighs, but still he sighed in pleasure as he licked at the head of Ardyn’s cock, felt it grow hard in his hand as the other man looked down at him. With how quickly Ardyn was hardening again, he imagined the man quite liked what he saw.

“Yes,” Cor breathed, getting the head between his lips, sucking on him gently as he stroked him. “Yes, please.” Just to feel it heavy on his tongue, hot and leaking… he flushed a little at the thought. It would be good, just to let Ardyn fuck his throat, to be his for a while, to let Ardyn use his mouth and his throat as he liked.

Cor closed his eyes, breathed through his nose and opened his mouth, taking the other man’s cock in until the head was pressed against his tongue. Fingers still wrapped around the base, he rubbed at him and stroked him as he licked and sucked gently on his cock.

\--

Cor had no problems asking for what he needed, breathless and wanting, and Ardyn settled his back against the doorframe, letting the other man take whatever he needed, his cock firming up in Cor’s mouth until the head pressed gently up against his soft palate, dripped pre down his throat. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was going to get there, especially when Cor had his eyes closed and his face beatific, a hand on Ardyn’s shaft and his tongue hot against his underside. “That’s good,” Ardyn murmured, praising the other man, scratching his blunt nails through the short hair at the back of his neck. “Very good.” He was waiting for Cor to relax, to open his throat. And then—

\--

Cor swallowed what Ardyn leaked down his throat, slid down further on the other man’s cock, and he could feel the head pressing against the roof of his mouth. He was perfectly content with him here, hot against his tongue.

Ardyn muttered quiet praise, fingers scraping through his hair and Cor parted his lips, let out a quiet, breathless sound and started to relax. There was nothing better in the world than Ardyn telling him how good he was when he was like this, on his knees with Ardyn’s cock filling his mouth. He would have been desperately hard if he hadn’t come not even an hour before, and Cor leaned in, took in more of him, and hummed around him, taking in slow, even breaths through his nose as he sucked.

\--

There wasn’t the same kind of desperate, impossible heat that had burned in the marrow of his bones earlier, when Cor had practically been begging Ardyn to break him. Instead, he just pulled Cor closer until the other man had his cock hilted in his open throat, bright eyes closed and lashes dark against his tan skin and flushed cheekbones, chin pressed to Ardyn’s thigh, his close-cropped beard soft on his skin. He didn’t even really need anything more than that, and Ardyn brushed his fingers over Cor’s cheek, under his jaw, his throat, to feel where his cock was breaking the other man wide, just rocked slow into the clenching tight heat that was Cor’s open mouth.

Time seemed to run all together, and Ardyn lost track of how long he was hilted there, Cor somehow still breathing and not gagging around him, until he felt his stomach tightening, his balls drawing up, and he opened his eyes again at last, stroked Cor’s short hair out of his face. “Do you want me to come in your mouth?”

\--

Ardyn tugged him closer, and Cor made a quiet, whining sound as he felt the other man’s cock press into his throat. For a moment, he panted through his nose as he tried to catch his breath, and then he relaxed again, as he grew accustomed to the feel of Ardyn filling up his mouth even more. His jaw was open wide, and he hummed around his cock, swallowed around the head.

There was something serene, too, about sucking on him like that when neither of them were overly desperate. Ardyn seemed to be enjoying just having him there, and Cor was content where he was, fingers curled gently into the other man’s trousers. He slid closer on his knees to get more comfortable, with his nose pressed into the curls of red hair at the base of his stomach.

He breathed slow and even, with his eyes closed and Ardyn just rocking into him, slow and rhythmic. It was easy to just not think, to fall into an almost half-asleep sort of daze, sucking on him idly, swallowing every so often, and letting out quiet, content sounds around his length.

At last, when Ardyn’s fingers stroked his hair, soft and gentle, Cor opened his eyes and looked up at him, pressed his tongue up against the underside of his cock, because he could feel it throbbing between his lips, could feel Ardyn leaking down his throat. He gave him just a slight nod in response and hummed as much as he could manage. He did want that, wanted to taste him and swallow all of it.

\--

It took Cor a while to come back to him, and Ardyn realised for the first time that this had to be what he was like most of the time, all needy and wanting with wide-blown eyes. When the other man finally nodded his desires, Ardyn smiled, pleased, and pulled out far enough that he could feel Cor humming against the head of his cock, tongue at his slit, and got his fingers around the spit-slick base of his erection and jacked himself a few times before he came with a low groan into the other man’s mouth, over the back of his tongue, Ardyn’s eyes half-lidded as he watched the almost beatific look on Cor’s face, quiet and pleased and sated.

\--

Cor watched Ardyn smile up above him and felt himself just about melt at how pleased with that the other man looked. He pulled off a tad, mouth open wide for him, and closed his eyes again, licking at the head of his cock as Ardyn curled his fingers around the base and stroked himself. The other man came a moment later, groaning, his cock throbbing and jerking against Cor’s tongue, and as Ardyn spilled down the back of his throat he swallowed it all carefully. He remembered the first time he’d done that, that he hadn’t been able to, and was rather pleased with how far he’d come since then, gulping down every drop even as he nearly choked on it.

As Ardyn’s cock fell from his lips, he licked the head clean, sat back on his heels and let out a slow, shaky breath, wiping his mouth on the back of one hand. His heart was thudding in his chest and he took in deep, gasping breaths, and slumped against Ardyn’s legs, clinging to him. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he muttered, voice a little hoarse, “Thank you.”

\--

Cor took it without any complaint; took it perfectly, swallowed around the head of Ardyn’s cock and sucked him dry, drops of black semen staining the corners of his lips as he stared up at Ardyn through his eyelashes, until his orgasm ebbed and Ardyn sighed, his knees more than a little shaky, and smiled. Cor licked him clean as Ardyn softened in his hand and sat back on his heels, looking more than a little bit dazed.

He looked about like Ardyn felt, actually.

Ardyn thumbed the curve of the other man’s jaw, where the first of the fat to loosen to jowls was hanging, and sighed. “You’re good,” he murmured at last, wanting desperately to pass out into bed immediately but not wanting to move an inch, “Very, very good.”

\--

Ardyn touched his jaw, murmuring quiet praise, and Cor pressed his face into the other man’s thigh, melted a little against him in utter contentment. After a minute or so, he started to pull himself to his feet, using Ardyn and the wall to drag himself up, and slumped against the other man. His face shoved against Ardyn’s shoulder, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “Come lie down with me,” he muttered, because that was all he really wanted.

\--

When Cor finally managed to get up off the ground, he fell practically boneless into Ardyn’s arms, mashed his face into Ardyn's shoulder, and held tight to the back of his shirt. At his request, it was all that he could to do smile, tuck his face back into the other man’s neck. “All right,” he murmured, not even feigning being put-upon. “How could I ever say no?”


	17. there are bridges you cross you didn't know you crossed until you've crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love was a dangerous, dangerous thing; he’d learned that lesson long ago.
> 
> And here he was, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [wicked's "thank goodness"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xSRCSXlaxM)
> 
>  
> 
> _because happy is what happens_  
>  _when all your dreams come true_  
>  _well... isn't it?_  
> 

The next few months were happiness marred by a constant realisation on Ardyn’s part that all he had taken for granted was soon to be torn out from under him. Again and again, just like it always was. Just like it always would be. His appearance, stagnant for thousands of years, decayed as the daemons fought back against him, taking ground he lost in inches still, but not for long. The circles under his sunken eyes became so pronounced that even his illusions could not hide it, and makeup only made it a little better. His hands began to shake, and he gave up on sleeping entirely, spending the most of every night sitting at Cor’s kitchen table once the other man was asleep, nursing long-cold cups of tea and staring sightless at walls as he clutched his tattered sanity.

Through it all, he never let anything slip. Oh, he knew Cor could tell that he was starting to lose ground—it would be impossible not to, to not notice Ardyn’s shaking hands and the time he would take to find words, the way he was constantly cold, layering himself in borrowed cardigans and scarves rather than his too-notable black leather coat, that he missed more and more often of late.

But Cor did not notice him awake all night, assuaged with an illusion in his bed while he slept. And he did not notice the ooze that Ardyn would vomit, dripping hot and acrid like burnt rubber down the back of his throat, because he kept it in the toilet. And Cor didn’t notice the slow decay of his sanity, because Ardyn had had a dozen lifetimes to perfect smiling and carrying on conversation even as the voices in his head, emboldened by his weakening resistance, whispered into his ears to _make Cor one of them, to live with them forever_ and begged him to _just let the daemons into Lestallum, for Noctis would fail_ and _so hungry, so very hungry_.

As the months passed, Ardyn adapted, as he always had, taking to his new situation if not with aplomb then at least with a minimum of complaint, and when Cor’s fiftieth birthday rolled around, he used his lack of sleep as a way to help Monica create a surprise party for the other man. They had planned and conspired with Cid for the last of Cor’s replacement bike parts to come in late, to pull him away from the apartment, and as soon as the Marshal was gone, the entire rest of Cor’s wayward little family came rushing in, throwing up decorations under Ardyn’s watchful eye, before they all crammed into the bedroom. Cid would be coming back with Cor to take a look at the bike, and then ask to come up for coffee, so it was only a matter of time, a matter of waiting.

When Ardyn heard Cor’s footsteps in the hallway, he had to make himself a distraction in the front hallway, and he went to open the door for the other man when he got there. “You’re back quickly,” he said to Cor, looking to Cid. “Cid, it’s good to see you.” It was sad, a man in his eighties looked better than Ardyn did most days without glamour and makeup. “Coming in for coffee?”

\--

Cor was worried. He was always worried. How could he not be, when Ardyn looked worse and worse as months went by. Cor was almost certain he was losing even more weight somehow, he was shaky and cold all the time, his eyes progressively more sunken. But Ardyn never spoke to him about it, and there wasn’t much he could do but worry and trust that Ardyn could take care of himself well enough. They were happy, at least. Cor was happier than he’d ever been, having Ardyn there with him all the time.

His fiftieth birthday was quickly approaching but even on the day it arrived, he didn’t exactly think much of it, or feel much different. It was just another birthday, even if this one was, technically, a bit more meaningful than the rest. Turning 50 was a milestone. He mostly just didn’t want to admit that he was getting old. Maybe too old to do some of the things he used to.

The last part for his bike finally came in that day. He’d missed his bike terribly, he’d not been able to go on many hunts without it, only ones near to the city. He and Cid had a nice talk as Cid looked at his bike, and the other man lectured him gently about growing older, and then asked if he could have a cup of coffee before he went on his way.

Ardyn was there to meet them when they reached the door, and Cor smiled at him. “Yeah,” he said. “I could use one as well.”

\--

Ardyn smiled, and it was a matter of self control and patience that he didn’t lose his cool. Only years of playing a role kept his face straight. “Come in, then,” he stepped aside to let Cor in, Cid following behind him, and shut it. He’d kept the light off in the kitchen and bedroom, and he waved a hand. “You’ll want to turn on the light; I had a headache and left them off.” He left it up to Cor, busying himself doing _something_ in the entryway as the other man entered the kitchen.

The moment the light turned on, in a pile of arms, legs, party poppers, and confetti, the entirety of Cor’s extended family and friends (everyone from Myra and Talcott to all three of Noctis’ friends, Cindy, and of all people _Aranea_ , which had left Ardyn terrified, although she had only glared suspiciously at him and taken Monica’s word for it that this wasn’t the same Chancellor she’d known—) exploded out of the bedroom shouting variations of,

“Surprise!”

\--

Cor stepped inside with Cid close behind him. The lights were all off, but he understood if Ardyn had a headache, and went to flick them on. The moment he did, he startled in shock as the apartment lit up to reveal decorations, confetti, and what must have been every friend he had, every person he knew well enough to be present, shouting _Surprise!_ As they came pouring out of the bedroom.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. He just stood there, stunned and smiling and then grinned and laughed. Of all the things— He’d expected birthday greetings in passing, maybe to go out to dinner not… this. But it was _wonderful_.

“You all,” he began, flushing at all the attention, knowing that all those people were there for _him_ , “Gods. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Cor,” Monica said as she came over to hug him. “Of course we did. It’s your fiftieth birthday, that’s a big deal.”

“Well,” he said, hugging her back with one arm and running his fingers through his hair. “I suppose I have you to thank.”

“Mmhmm.” She smiled and pointed to Ardyn. “And him. Actually, Altum did most of the work.”

“Of course he did,” Cor sighed, turned to hug Ardyn next, and kissed him gently.

\--

Cor was completely astonished, and Ardyn smiled, truly pleased, as the other man looked back and forth between the people crammed into their apartment, the absolute chaos. He was even _laughing_ , a rare enough thing in private, let alone in front of all these people.

“Oh, nonsense,” Ardyn replied to Monica’s statement, coming over to tuck himself against Cor’s other side, his head rolled back to rest on Cor’s shoulder, allowing the kiss. “Monica is playing herself down; she did all the hard work. I just lied to you and decorated the place.” He pushed the other man further into the kitchen. “You only get one fiftieth birthday, Cor. We weren’t going to let you avoid everyone and _not_ celebrate it.” There was a cake set out on the table, and as Ardyn spoke Iris had come over and lit the candles—there weren’t fifty candles, because nobody could waste that many, but there _were_ five, and an actual cake, although cobbling together the ingredients had been nearly impossible.

“You have to wish for something really good!” Iris said, her hands clasped together. “Like...I dunno, a wedding, or something!” Ardyn choked, where he was leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “Or for Noctis to come back soon!”

\--

Cor just snorted at him, leaning towards him. Monica and Ardyn were dangerous together, he should have known they’d plan something like this.

“I suppose,” he sighed, smiling still as Ardyn pushed him into the kitchen. There was a cake on the table, probably baked by Ignis, and Iris lit the five candles. He nearly choked on his own spit when she said he should wish for a wedding, staring at Ardyn out the corner of his eye. Of course she would say something like that. And at the mention of Noctis, he smiled sadly. Well. He’d never really believed in birthday wishes coming true, but if he was going to wish for something, he would save himself the pain of wishing for something that could never be.

If he’d had his way, he would have wished it didn’t have to end like he knew it eventually would. Instead, he wished for the best possible outcome. That Noctis would return before Ardyn lost too much more of himself. That he would find rest and happiness once it was all over.

He blew out the candles and everyone clapped and he sat down heavily in his chair at the table as Iris snatched up a knife and started to cut the cake.

\--

Ardyn’s smile was plastic as Cor looked at him. Of course: a wedding and a funeral. How touching.

He didn’t say anything, just came over as Iris began to cut the cake and started to serve tea and coffee and water to all the guests. “I’m sure he wished for something good,” Ardyn told Iris, when he saw her looking a little miffed that Cor hadn’t laughed at her suggestions.

“What, no wedding?” She turned to look at him, and Monica also perked up, even as Cid laughed. “We could totally have a wedding!” Ardyn’s plastic smile did not for a moment falter.

“Well, you never know,” he said, noncommittally, handing Cor a glass of water. “Considering the amount of difficulty _you_ had coming up with a birthday gift, I wouldn’t like to see you try to figure out a wedding gift.”

“Hey!” Iris yelped, and Ignis started laughing.

“And that is why I always just cook for people’s birthdays.”

\--

Iris started handing out the cake to Cor and the other guests while Ardyn prepared everyone’s drinks. She really was being persistent about the wedding, though, and he sighed, smiled, and shook his head. It was no surprise. In dire times, a wedding would lift everyone’s spirits. But he refused to allow himself to fall completely into those illusions of endless happiness, and he knew Ardyn wouldn’t want that, either. He could see it in his smile, in his eyes, as he tried to change the subject.

“Iris,” Cor said, as gentle and straightforward as possible. “I don’t think either of us are ready for that kind of commitment just yet.” Even though, if he hadn’t known what was coming, he would have been. And when she looked utterly disappointed, he tacked on quickly, “but we’ll see.”

She smiled again and seemed content with that. “So,” he said, changing the topic of conversation again as he ate. “Ignis catered? It’s very good. Thank you.”

\--

Cor finally seemed to put the topic to rest, and somehow everyone found a place to either sit or stand in either the kitchen or the bedroom. “Well, you don’t turn fifty twice, usually,” Ignis replied. “It was the least I could do. I’m sure everyone else’s presents are far more personalised.”

Iris sighed. “I just got you a toolbox,” she admitted, a little shame-faced. “I put it with your bike. So um. Happy birthday, I guess?”

\--

“That’s true,” Cor admitted to Ignis, and laughed a little when Iris said what she got him. “No that’s lovely, and useful. Thank you, Iris.” From there they went around the room and presented him with their gifts.

Monica got him a book for his small collection, Gladiolus and Promto both, looking rather ashamed, had accidentally completely separately got him the exact same shirt he was already wearing. There were others. Clothes and a nice china cup and another book and some expensive-looking chocolates, and a drawing of him from Myra, and finally, when everyone else had finished, he looked over at Ardyn, who was the one person not to present his gift yet, assuming he had one.

\--

Everyone had gotten Cor one thing or another, and Ardyn found himself amused at turns how little it seemed people knew the man. He was no enigma; Cor wore his heart on his sleeve. Or—perhaps he did that only for Ardyn.

“I’ll admit it’s nothing traditional,” Ardyn said, going to one of the cabinets and producing a slim package he’d been keeping hidden where Cor wouldn’t look for it, haphazardly shoved in behind some tupperware. He handed it to the Marshal. “But I am a rather sentimental sort, and I thought this would suit you well.” He’d actually struggled with what to give Cor; there were many things Ardyn _wanted_ to give him, but none of which he could without arousing suspicions better left hidden at the wayside. “I hope you like it.”

He tried not to let that come out tinged with worry, but failed.

\--

Ardyn pulled out a small slim package from where it was hiding in their cupboard and handed it to him. He honestly had no idea what it was. Ardyn was completely unpredictable, though he had no doubt the other man had thought long and hard about it and picked something he thought would be meaningful.

“Well,” Cor said as he started to open it, “You do know me best of all.” He smiled at him, gently touched his hand. Beneath the wrapping was a small box, and he pulled the lid off. Inside was a quill pen, and a beautiful one at that. The quill, though, was a black chocobo feather, long and in surprisingly good shape. He pulled it carefully from the box, held it up to look at it. “It’s gorgeous,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. He looked at Ardyn, certain there must be some deeper meaning to this, and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

\--

There was a complete lack of understanding in Cor’s eyes as he pulled the feather out and turned it between his fingers, and Ardyn knew that was for the best. “Well, I’m glad you like it,” he said, as Prompto slid over, plucking at the tip of the quill. Ardyn wanted to say _that’s fragile_ but couldn’t get the words out.

“Where did you even _get_ this?” The boy asked, awed. “I mean, I know Wiz still has the little one we rescued but, she doesn’t _like_ people. Did he give you the feather?”

“I have my ways,” Ardyn settled on, a non-answer, smiling.

“Is it dyed?”

“I certainly _shan’t_ be answering that.” Ardyn pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded! Me! Dye a feather as a birthday gift! Prompto, my old heart will not take the abuse; I will absolutely never recover my esteem in your good graces.”

“Quit being weird,” Aranea growled, and the room laughed, even as Ardyn’s smile faltered. He knew Cor would understand his gift—later, yes. Far later.

\--

Of course Ardyn wasn’t going to explain. He wouldn’t have expected him to. Instead he held the pen, stroked the feather gently until Prompto came over to prod at it and ask about it. He laughed a little, at Prompto’s enthusiasm, at Ardyn avoiding an answer. “Well,” he said, “There are so few black chocobos now, it really is special. I’ll treasure it.” Even more so because it had come from Ardyn, a meaningful gift to remember him by.

As everyone laughed, happy and oblivious, he stared at the chocobo feather for another long moment, then gently put it back into its box and set it aside. He ought to mingle, he supposed, since so many people had come to celebrate with him.

\--

As the party wore on, and the mingling continued, a headache began to build in Ardyn’s temples, whispers and spitting and hissing in his mind leaving him reeling and nauseous. Halfway through, Ardyn had to excuse himself, pulling away from his conversation with Myra and Talcott to go to the restroom, barely making it to the toilet in time before he threw up, the door only closed, not locked. His head was _pounding_ , and grey mist had taken the corners of his vision. Cor was distracted—he wouldn’t notice, Ardyn hoped. He lost track of how much time he spent shaking, shivering with cold despite his sweaters, on his knees by the toilet bowl, his forehead clammy and burning with fever against the cold porcelain.

He didn’t hear the door open because it creaked just as he flushed, and Ardyn realised all too late there was someone with him as the bolt threw shut. He felt a chill down his spine and looked up and over, wiping black bile from his mouth onto the back of his hand.

Aranea stared back at him. She had her back to the door, her arms crossed over her chest, and a look like ice on her face. Ardyn gave a wet, pained laugh and dropped his head back over the bowl, sweat-damp ringlets curling against his face, sticking to his skin, his glasses slipping down his nose to dangle just over the sloshing water as the bowl refilled. “Cornered at last,” he managed, voice hoarse from his ragged bile-raw throat. “I thought it was too much to hope for.” He’d spent the better part of the last two years avoiding her like the plague—Ignis, Gladiolus, and Prompto were one thing, but they’d never spent the kind of time with him that Aranea had. She’d have seen through any disguise he ever wore, Ardyn knew. Eventually she had been fated to learn his identity. He was only lucky it had taken this long.

“Very funny.” Aranea was extremely still, but Ardyn could recognise the woman being on-edge like she was staring down a daemon. Which she, to be fair, was. “You never could disguise yourself worth a fucking damn.” He shrugged a shoulder.

“Touché.” He leaned back against the porcelain, closed his eyes, waited for the next wave of nausea to hit. He hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights when he had rushed in, his head pounding too much for it. Aranea turned it on a moment later, yellow electric light washing over the room, so that she could see him as clearly as he could see her. “What do you want, Aranea?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that question?” She shot back, not moving any closer, not leaving. “What are you up to, Ardyn?”

He was glad the party was so loud.

He couldn’t have anyone else hearing that.

“Exactly what it looks like,” he replied, flippant, waving a lazy loose-limbed hand at her. “Vomiting into a toilet, with a fever and a migraine during a birthday party. You _really_ need to learn to pick your words, my dear. It will bite you in the ass someday.” She hissed an angry noise between her teeth in response, and he giggled quietly, pleased. “Nothing that should concern you,” he added at last, coughing to clear his throat. “I wouldn’t have come at all, had Cor not insisted.” They both knew he didn’t mean to the birthday party.

“That’s the shit I’m talking about,” Aranea walked forward two steps and grabbed him by his hair, hauled Ardyn up off of the toilet by his curls, stared down at him, her mouth a knife-sharp sneer. “Mouthing off. _Cor_.” She dropped him, and he was so ill that he couldn’t catch himself properly and smashed his nose into the toilet rim—overwhelmed, his nose smarting, he had to double over and finish the mess he’d been making before she came in. “Does he know?” The woman snarled, her voice shaking, hauled him up again as soon as he was done throwing up, Ardyn shaking so hard his teeth were chattering, black bile dripping from his lips. Aranea shook him, like a misbehaving dog. “ _Does he know,_ Ardyn?”

“Yes!” Ardyn coughed, wiping his mouth and tearing his head away from her fingers, wobbling and barely catching himself on an outstretched hand before he fell flat on his face. “He’s known since the beginning!” He coughed again, hand pressed just under his concave ribs, his head throbbing. “I didn’t realise you’d learned to care so much for the man,” he snapped, not looking at her, hurt and cornered. “It was his idea for me to wear another face, Aranea. If you’re going to blame anyone for this farce blame _him_.” He didn’t need to deal with her right now. He just wanted everything to go away.

“And you really think nobody but me will figure it out? I heard about Ignis ‘mistaking’ you. Prompto and Gladio might be fucking gullible, but not all of us are stupid. Ardyn, Monica and Cor can’t vouch for you forever. What are you going to do when the Prin—when the _King_ comes back, huh?” Ardyn shrugged a single shoulder. “Just assume nobody will be surprised when the Marshal’s beloved boyfriend suddenly vanishes?”

“Die,” Ardyn snapped, retching again and flushing the toilet, grabbing for tissue to dab the bile off of his mouth. “I’m going to go to Insomnia, and die. Ideally quickly and with the least drama possible.”

“And break his heart?” Aranea didn’t need to clarify whose heart Arydn was going to break. They both knew. He’d known ever since that night he’d woken up that afternoon in Cor’s apartment in Insomnia, after they had screamed themselves hoarse and he’s left himself throbbing with illness, and the other man had looked at him like Ardyn had done something wonderful and lovely just by being there. He’d been sure the first time he’d worn his own face in front of him, and Cor had kissed the decaying hole at the left corner of his mouth, touched his ruined skin with too-gentle fingers and told him he was beautiful.

Ardyn knew.

He knew, and he hoped for all their sakes that Noctis at least made it a clean kill, so Cor wouldn’t find his broken corpse to bury and had to have another reason above all to mourn.

Ardyn found himself smiling at Aranea’s fury, cloaking his own aching heart in his barbed tongue and lies, just like he always did. “You care so much for Cor’s heart?” He asked, too tired to fight back, when he still had to go back to the party and not let Cor know anything was wrong. “He knows what’s coming, Aranea. Better than do all of you.”

“If you hurt him—“ the woman began, and Ardyn laughed. It was an ugly, hateful thing, muffled in the skin of his own freckled forearm, his eyes closed. “I’m serious, if you fucking hurt him, Ardyn—”

“It’s too late for that, Aranea.” The words hurt to say. “He’s going to get hurt. We both are. He wears a too-strong face, does my Marshal, but I know he’ll never recover.” His words shook as he continued, “I tried to stop it, Aranea. I did. He’s a stubborn man. He won’t take no for an answer.”

“You’re a bastard,” Aranea said, rather than anything else. “You’re a real bastard.”

“Royalty, my dear, is usually legitimate. Call my mother a bitch if you so will, but a bastard is one of the few things I can’t lay claim to being.” He sat up after a moment longer, leaned back onto his heels, pressed his hand to his hip, burning from how fast he’d sat down. It was quiet, in that tiny bathroom, while around them happy people saw light in a dark world. At last, Ardyn looked up at her.

Aranea was nearly forty, and she looked it, fine lines coming in around her eyes and mouth. Her hair had white in among the platinum blonde locks, her lips were going soft. She’d gained weight on top of her powerful muscles, and she looked at him with mixed pity and disgust. “Don’t tell them,” Ardyn whispered, staring up at her. Her upper lip curled. “ _Please_ , Aranea. Say of me what you will, spit on my corpse, blame me for what I’ve done to those boys, it’s all true.” He lowered his eyes, wet his dry lips. “But just...let Cor have this. It’s only a little longer. Let him be happy, at least while he can.” He heard the leather of her gloves creak as she made fists. “If not for me, for him.”

“He’s too good for you,” she said. Ardyn nodded, mute, for he could not in good conscience disagree. Cor had always been too good for him, from the moment that he had dropped to his knees behind that diner and ruined both their lives in one fell swoop. “Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t go out there and let them rip you to shreds.”

“It would kill him,” Ardyn whispered. “He—Aranea, _please_.” Rarely was he as fervent and truthful as this. But he was, at this moment. “When it’s all said and done, do whatever you want. But at least let my corpse be cold. Don’t make him mourn twice.”

She didn’t respond, just finally turned the light out on him and left, her lips a thin white livid line, and in the silence in her wake Ardyn just lay there, his eyes closed, trembling, and put himself back together. Cleaned himself up, fixed his makeup, and when he exited the bathroom, it was as if nothing had ever happened.

Aranea even looked him in the face when he spoke to her, but the mutinous look in her eyes was a warning—she knew, and he was toeing a line. It was only a matter of time, now.

\--

Cor was quickly descended upon by just about everyone there, all of them wanting to talk to him, vying for his attention. And for once, he didn’t mind, and made sure to give everyone a little bit of his time, for them to wish him a happy birthday and give him hugs and for him to thank them for their gifts and have a little chat. It was rare that everyone got together, too, and they mingled with each other, all of them just happy to be there.

He lost track of Ardyn for a little while and got caught up in a conversation with Cid and Gladio, but when he finally looked around and spotted him emerging from the bathroom, he smiled and waved him over to join them.

It carried on like that for quite some time, until, after a few hours, the guests started to filter out. It was getting late, and people were getting restless, wanting to go home. Monica and Cid were the last to leave, and Cid offered to finally help Cor fix up his bike the next day, to get her running again. Once they had gone, and it was just him and Ardyn, alone at last, he sighed and looked around at their apartment. Monica had done her best to try to help clean up but it still looked an awful lot like he’d just thrown a massive birthday party. But at least it was quiet again.

\--

Ardyn’s headache, to his surprise, improved, and by the time the party was over he was merely exhausted, not violently ill. He was glad when the last of the guests left, though, and began to mechanically clean up, throwing trash into their bin and rubbing the back of his hand over his face. “You’d better make sure your sixtieth is even bigger,” he told Cor, as he scraped the remains of the cake (a bit of icing and some fondant) up with his finger, licked it off, and put the platter in the sink to wash. “And tell Prompto and Gladio to not get you the same thing.”

\--

Ardyn started to clean up a little, taking care of the cake and the kitchen. His sixtieth was… difficult to think about. To be honest, he couldn’t even imagine it. Surely Noctis would have returned by then. Ardyn would be gone. What kind of world would they all be living in, and how much different would it be? So much different than this. And despite how much everyone else longed for that day to come, despite how much he’d once wished for it, too, he now found that… he preferred these years, in the darkness at the end of the world, with Ardyn still there beside him. How strange it seemed, that their darkest days had somehow become his happiest.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll make sure.” He tried to smile and managed it, just barely. But Ardyn seemed so distant, so tired, and rather than stand there and watch him, Cor pressed up behind him, wrapped his arms around the other man to pull him close and pressed his face into his shoulder. “We can finish cleaning up later, Ardyn,” he muttered. “I don’t want to think about the future right now. Not today.”

\--

Cor came over, quiet and reserved after using all his energy up earlier, and wrapped up around Ardyn’s back, face pressed into his shoulder. “It’s a mess,” he muttered, trying and failing to come up with an excuse and failing, turning around to properly hug the other man, sighing into Cor’s neck, his fingers dragging down Cor’s collarbones. “I know. I have another gift for you, if you want it. I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone.”

\--

Ardyn turned around in his arms and Cor pulled him closer, nuzzling the side of his head as Ardyn’s fingers trailed along his collarbones. “Oh,” he muttered, running his hands down the other man’s back to wrap his palms around his waist. “Something else?” He pulled back enough to look at his face and smiled. “Of course. I’d love that.”

\--

Cor clearly had a different gift in mind, and Ardyn sighed, let the other man nuzzle at his neck and his hair, hands settling around his narrow waist. “Not that kind,” Ardyn chided him, smiling despite his words, before he continued. “How familiar are you with Old Lucian history, Marshal?” he asked, head tilted back to press their noses together, watching Cor’s bright eyes.

\--

“Oh,” he said, a little caught off-guard by the question. Though it was clearly relevant to whatever gift he had in mind, Cor hadn’t expected it. “Not very familiar, I’m afraid. We learned about it in school but,” he shook his head. “That was a long time ago. I only remember the basics, to be honest.”

\--

Ardyn sighed. “Well, I suppose I must needs explain everything, then.” He looped his arms around Cor’s neck, watched his face. “There was a tradition, in particularly sentimental homes, that when a man married, he would give his wife the key to his family pantry. The idea was that she would keep him and his family fed, and would control their domestic world. Since, you know, men knew nothing at all whatsoever about food and the home.” Ardyn paused then.

“I’ll...be the first to admit that I’ve no pantry of my own, and yours doesn’t have a key,” he continued, rushing on while he still could, before he froze up, “But I _do_ own a car, that dear old thing.” He reached into his pocket and produced his spare pair of car keys, and pulled Cor’s hands from around his waist to press them between his fingers. “You’ll find her parked safely in the garage at the Cauthess rest area, where she’s been the last eight years. A bit dusty, I’m sure, and perhaps may need a jump, but she’s there and unharmed, just as I left her. She’s too distinctive for me to drive, but when all is said and done, I’ve left her there for you. If you want her.”

\--

Ardyn wrapped his arms around his neck, and he began to explain. But as soon as he mentioned marriage, Cor’s eyes widened, and he stared at the man in surprised shock. Ardyn told him of an old tradition, one he definitely had never heard of, but it… made sense. It was sweeter, in a way, than most modern traditions were.

“Ardyn,” he said, as the other man began to dig out his keys. He didn’t even know what to say, didn’t know how to react. Ardyn pressed his spare car keys into his hand, and Cor curled his fingers around them. He felt like he might cry or… he didn’t even know what.

“Ardyn,” he said again, and reached up his other hand to tangle his fingers into the other man’s hair. “I…” Instead of groping for words anymore, he leaned in and kissed him, kissed him deep and slow, pulled the other man against him and kissed him harder. “Of course I do,” he all but sobbed against his lips. “Of _course_ I do.”

\--

Once he’d spilled the beans, Cor just stared at Ardyn like he barely even recognised him. His blue eyes were bright, and Ardyn immediately pressed his thumbs to the other man’s cheekbones, hissed between his teeth. “Don’t you dare cry,” he murmured, fervent, because he could see it about to happen. Fortunately for them both, Cor didn’t cry, or at least not while he could see it happen, and instead grabbed at Ardyn’s hair and dragged him over into a kiss, and then another, and then another, harder and deep enough that Ardyn was rolling unconsciously onto the balls of his feet to get closer.

He didn’t want to think too much about what he had done, the agreement he’d made just now. Ardyn didn’t want to think about anything at all—the gifts, the party, the reminders that they all wanted Noctis back and him dead, Aranea’s words, he didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to make Cor happy, to make the both of them stop worrying. So, Ardyn grabbed hard at Cor’s collar, pulled him closer, bit at his lower lip. “Marshal,” he murmured, into Cor’s open mouth, “Birthday sex _is_ traditional, I’m told.”

\--

Ardyn leaned into him, kissed him back just as hard and Cor carefully pocketed the keys the other man had handed him and wrapped his arm around him again, pressing his fingers up under his shirt to get at his skin. Ardyn grabbed his collar, bit his lip, and Cor nipped back at his mouth, dragged him closer by his hair, until their faces were shoved together.

“It is,” he muttered, smiling. “So come to bed with me, and let me get my dick in you. I want to feel you all around me.” He wanted that, and to not think about anything else.

\--

Cor’s hand slid hot up under his shirt, warm over the skin of his stomach, and he dragged Ardyn over by his hair so that Ardyn could go nowhere but kiss him. Ardyn laughed into his mouth, curled his fingers into Cor’s lapels. “Is that not what I just _said_?” He replied, grinning. “Your birthday, Marshal. You get to decide where and how you want me, so you’d best take advantage of it.”

\--

“Mmhmm,” Cor hummed as the other man laughed. “That’s right.” He kissed him again, deeper, and tugged his hair out of its ponytail and pressed his hand further up his shirt against his stomach and his waist. Before he could get any further, though, standing in the middle of the kitchen, he stopped and pulled his hands away, kissed the other man again. “Come on, then.” Though they’d had their share of sex against the counter, he supposed he was starting to get a little old for that. He wanted to be comfortable.

So, he moved to the bedroom, coaxing Ardyn with him, and sat down on the edge of the mattress, staring up at his King standing before him, and pulled his shirt up over his head. “So,” he said. “I’m not living in sin anymore, am I?”

\--

“Cor,” Ardyn chided breathlessly as the other man pulled his hair out of his ponytail, the curls brushing against his jaw and ears. “Will you stop!” He didn’t mean it in the slightest. Cor coaxed him away from the counter, and Ardyn followed, fumbling with the other man’s belt and fly to get his hands into Cor’s boxers, and didn’t have to be told to climb onto his lap almost as soon as he’d sat down, straddling his hips, tugging Cor’s shirt the rest of the way off and scraping his nails over the other man’s nipples to get them hard. “I suppose not,” Ardyn admitted, tilting Cor’s face up to suck on his lip, then his tongue. “You usually make the first night of married sex memorable, is my understanding.” Ardyn paused, laughed. “Not that _I’d_ know. I’ve never been married.”

\--

Ardyn got his belt undone and his fly, shoved his hands into his boxers and crawled into his lap. Cor let out a shaky breath as Ardyn’s nails scraped at his nipples, parted his lips to let the other man suck on his tongue, and kissed him. “Well I wouldn’t know either,” he muttered, biting down on Ardyn’s lower lip, shoving their mouths together to kiss him again. “I’ve never been married before either.” He grinned, palms resting on the other man’s hips, and slid his fingers below the waistband of his trousers. “But I’d imagine that’s true. So…” He slid his hands around, pushed them lower, to cup the gentle curve of his ass, to pull him closer. “Since this is birthday sex and our first night married,” that still felt unbelievable to say, strange but wonderful, “we’d better make it extra special.”

\--

When Cor said it like that, out in the open and unfettered, Ardyn found himself flushing as red as his hair, and ducked his head to hide his face from Cor’s watchful eyes, hid his smile as best he could. “I don’t know what would _do_ that,” Ardyn replied, trailing his fingers over Cor’s chest, tracing the scars that ran under the the dark strands of the curly hair there, greying now from their old earthy brown. “It’s your birthday, Cor. I’ll do whatever you want.”

\--

Ardyn ducked his head to try to hide his face. Even so, Cor could see the red tinging his cheeks and ears when he reached up to run his fingers through the other man’s hair. Honestly, Cor didn’t really know how to feel about it, either. It hadn’t really settled in, and there hadn’t been any kind of modern ceremony for it but still… saying it made it feel a little more real, and he felt just as awkward about it as Ardyn looked, but it was almost adorable to see the other man react like that.

“I don’t honestly know either,” he muttered, pressing his lips to Ardyn’s forehead. “Well. I do want to fuck you.” He leaned back on the bed and tugged Ardyn with him, so the other man was leaning up over him. “Let’s just take it slow for a little while.” He pushed his fingers up under Ardyn’s shirt again, leaned in to kiss his jawline and his neck and smiled against his skin.

\--

Cor rolled back on the bed, pulling Ardyn up over him, kissing his forehead, and Ardyn huffed an annoyed breath. “That’s _boring_ ,” he griped at Cor, pinning the other man’s hands to the mattress above his head. “You’re being boring, Marshal. We can’t have that.” Ardyn pressed their noses together for a moment. “If I wanted boring, I wouldn’t be here. It’s _your_ birthday, Cor. You’re supposed to get what you want.” Ardyn nipped at his lips, pressed his hands further into the mattress. “So use me.”

\--

As soon as Cor tried to suggest they take it slowly at first, he was mentally counting down to the moment Ardyn started to whine. It took him about three seconds, but honestly Cor would have been surprised if it had taken any longer, and he laughed breathlessly at Ardyn’s complaints. “Boring,” he said, grinning. “I see. I thought you might say that.” Ardyn was pinning his hands up above his head and it was an awkward angle to resist in.

Instead of just pushing back with his arms, he pushed his entire body up and over, rolling Ardyn off his lap and pressing him down against the mattress instead. With their positions reversed, he grabbed the other man’s wrists and pinned him there instead, coaxed his thighs apart with one knee so he could slide in between them to roll their hips together. “You so like it when I take what I want from you,” he muttered, leaning down to bite at his neck. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that I love how much of a slut for my cock you are.”

\--

Cor grinned at him. “What,” Ardyn sighed, “Am I truly that predictable?” Of course he was. He _let_ Cor roll them over moments later, lifting Ardyn with his upper body, and the only struggle he gave was a cursory one as Cor pinned him to the bedsheets, his hands above his head. “Getting fresh,” Ardyn continued, looking up at the other man, rolling his hips against Cor’s thigh between his legs, and then against his dick as their hips met.

Ardyn _shuddered_ viscerally as Cor said that, though, and bit his lip, flushed with arousal. “You do have a _very_ nice dick,” Ardyn admitted, laughing breathlessly. “I would have to be a stone-hearted man indeed to not be a slut for it.”

\--

Ardyn rolled their hips back together and Cor grinned at the way Ardyn flushed, the way his face twisted up a little with pleasure as he bit his lip. He was completely gorgeous like that, beneath him, and Cor ground his cock hard against Ardyn’s, sighing at the pressure. “I suppose that’s true,” he muttered. “Still, the fact that you always want to take all of it, even without lube… gods.” He let go of his wrists to tangle one hand tight into his hair and ruck up his shirt with the other, pinching one of his nipples between his finger and thumb, rolling it gently.

He pressed his face against Ardyn’s neck, nosed at his throat and bit down hard, sucking on his skin. “I want to get you wide open for me,” he said, grinding their hips together again. “I want my fingers and my cock in you. And…” He let go of his hair, bit at his throat again and pushed the other man’s shirt up further, rubbing both thumbs into his nipples. “What if I got my tongue in you first?” He slid down, kissed the center of his chest where it was lightly dusted with fine hairs, where he knew that terrible scar was. “Would you like it if I did that?”

\--

Ardyn made a noncommittal noise. “You always seem so surprised by that.” He couldn’t be hurt permanently by normal means, and Cor was startled that Ardyn wanted the other man to fuck him raw and quick? Foolish, was what that was. Whining low in his throat, arching against Cor’s hands around his wrists as Cor pinched at his nipple, making it peak, Ardyn looked up at the other man below his lidded eyes and let out a shaky, breathless moan.

“Yes,” he agreed, at the thought of Cor fucking him wide open again. It would be easier than the last time he’d stuffed Ardyn with his hand, years before—they had sex almost every night, now, or every other at the most. It had been months since Ardyn had been tight enough to need the kind of long, painstaking prep they’d used to have to do. He gaped all the time, his ass reshaped to match Cor’s absolutely fantastic dick.

Cor kept talking, Ardyn letting him and holding his tongue, as Cor pinched at both his nipples, the sensation going straight to his dick, and Ardyn purred low in his throat at the other man’s kisses, brushed over the tender scar from the Armiger, buried in Ardyn’s sparse chesthair, accompanied by that—by _that_ suggestion.

“You always have me trying new things,” Ardyn gasped, his eyes huge, disbelieving. He could _feel_ his pupils dilating. “Are you sure that’s entirely sanitary?”

\--

Ardyn always liked the idea of Cor fucking him, so that was no surprise. He always loved the reaction, though. No matter how often they had sex, Ardyn never got tired of it. He could feel the other man getting hard beneath him, and sighed at the delighted sound Ardyn made as he kissed his chest.

“Trying new things is good for you,” he muttered, smiling up at him. “I’m sure it’s sanitary, don’t worry.” Ardyn _did_ seem to like the idea, but he was always so unsure about trying new things. Though, that was natural.

Cor kissed his chest again, moved over to bite at one nipple, then slid down further, sitting up a little to undo the other man’s fly and pull his trousers and underwear down around his hips and off his legs, careful on his bad side, rubbing tenderly at and around the old scar. “I just want you to,” he murmured as he eyed the other man’s cock and moved between his thighs again, “tell me how it feels as I go.” He hooked Ardyn’s good knee up over his shoulder and settled down onto the mattress. “Tell me if I’m doing a good job.” He flushed a little at that and pressed his palms to Ardyn’s hips, his face up against the side of his cock, breathing against his length as he looked up at him. “That’s what I want. I want to be good for you.”

\--

“You can’t teach an old chocobo new tricks,” Ardyn replied instead, huffing. “Besides, as a Healer, I am almost certain it is my duty to inform you that putting your mouth on my anus is _not_ sanitary, even with the situation being that I haven’t taken a shit in nearly eight-hundred years because the last time I tried it I remembered what a waste of time and energy it was, and I won’t be having you get an infection when—” Cor bit his nipple, Ardyn made a garbled noise, forced himself to continue, “Cor, are you even _listening_ to me because at the very least you should use some kind of a covering between your mouth and my ass,” Cor was pulling his trousers off, dragging Ardyn’s underwear down off his ankles, spreading his thighs, and the other man leaned over him, Ardyn’s good leg over his shoulder. Ardyn made a muffled, displeased sigh of a noise. “Cor, I am _well_ aware that I talk too much,” Cor was asking him for praise, which he would happily give, but, “And it can be all-too-easy to tune me out when I get going, but Cor, please would you just listen to me for just a moment—”

And then Cor got down on his hands and knees, lifted Ardyn’s hips, cradling the bad one, off of the mattress, and breathed over the side of his cock.

Ardyn’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he gave up going any further. It was a bust. Cor didn’t give half a shit.

“All right,” he acquiesced with a whimper, because he could stand up to a lot of things, but Cor breathing on his cock and looking at Ardyn like he wanted to eat him was not one of them, “If you’re certain.”

\--

Of course Cor completely ignored his little rant, and smiled at him when he agreed. He didn’t even know why Ardyn tried to talk him out of these things. “I am,” he assured him, and pressed his tongue to the base of his cock, licked slowly up his length, then moved lower, to mouth at his balls. And then, lower, nosing at his taint, kissing his skin. He brought his hands beneath the other man’s ass, coaxing his hips up, pulling his cheeks apart, and let out a shuddering breath as he looked at the soft puckered muscle of his entrance, part-open and soft and swollen and dark from the sheer amount that he’d used Ardyn in the last few years. He leaned in close, breathed against it. Then he pressed his tongue there, licked over it a few times and hummed his quiet approval, closing his eyes. It didn’t taste much different than his cock, just a little mustier maybe, but he didn’t mind it.

“You’re always so much looser than you used to be,” he muttered against him, kissed and mouthed at the ring of muscle, and then shoved his face in closer, held his cheeks apart so he wouldn’t be able to clench down as easily, and pushed the tip of his tongue into him. It went right in, his rim so loose the muscle just eased open for the pressure.

\--

Cor licked up from the base of his cock to the bottom of his glans, and Ardyn just gave up completely, sagging back into the mattress, breathless. Cor was going to do whatever he wanted, no matter what Ardyn said. “You’re taking on the worst parts of my personality,” he murmured, fingers curling into Cor’s hair as the other man dragged his mouth lower, heat and pressure following in his wake. “You used to be so much better at _obeying_.” Cor was just starting to get used to Ardyn mouthing off. Terrible, was what it was.

(But nice, too, that the other man had finally learned to tell the difference between when Ardyn was complaining for the sake of it, and complaining because something was actually wrong.)

Cor parted his cheeks, leaned in, and licked a hot, wet stripe over Ardyn’s entrance. The noise he made in response was midway between a yelp and a gasp, and Ardyn grabbed the other man’s hair tighter, stared wide-eyed at the ceiling as Cor did it again, and then a few more times, slicking his skin, the pressure over the sensitive nerves there telling Ardyn there was more, better, to come.

“Well, forgive me, but your cock isn’t exactly, _small_ , Marshal, and I haven’t died in years—” Ardyn tried to say, but Cor had dragged him open so that Ardyn’s ass felt like it was gaping, that Cor could look right inside him, and Cor replied by shoving his nose into Ardyn’s perineum and his tongue into Ardyn’s hole, and anything else he might have said came out in one garbled, inchoate, surprised noise that was several words rammed together into one jagged sound that choked off against the back of his teeth. It felt so _different_ from Cor’s cock or fingers, hotter and slimmer but _stronger_ , a wet weight that tugged on the rim of him, slicked him open without any stretch.

\--

The noises Ardyn made were _beautiful_ , and the other man’s fingers were tight in his hair as Cor pressed his tongue into him, reaching in as deep as he could. It was an easy slide, Ardyn was just tight enough that Cor could feel him clenching a little, and he sighed through his nose and licked up against him on the inside, tasting him, feeling how hot he was. That alone was enough to make him hard, and his cock pressed against the front of his trousers and the mattress beneath him.

Cor moaned quietly, licked up against his rim and tugged on the muscle, pulled his tongue out to breathe for a moment and then pressed it back in, working him open. He scraped his teeth gently against his entrance, sucked on him and tried to lick deeper into him. And when he was just starting to get nice and wet, he circled the rim with his tongue, licked at the muscle, and slid one hand over, hooked the tip of his finger in and licked alongside it. “I want you wet and open,” he muttered against his entrance as he pushed his finger in deeper. Even more than that, he wanted to see how long he could spend getting his fingers and his tongue in him before Ardyn was too desperate for his cock to let him continue.

\--

Ardyn lost track of everything except the way it felt to be wet and open and speared on Cor’s tongue, his tender rim damp and stuffed and slick. Cor slid an easy finger up into him, Ardyn’s loose ass soaked from the other man’s spit, and he made an unhappy noise. The upside to being so loose from Cor fucking him all the time was that getting to having a dick in him was fantastically easy—getting stuffed took almost no effort. He could just slick Cor’s cock with lube and slide down on it until he was delightfully full.

On the _other_ hand, it meant that one finger was almost nothing, his walls barely closed around it. One finger was none of the stretch Ardyn wanted or needed, one finger just barely touched him, left him with a taste of the fullness he craved. He was so loose that it meant that he made an angry, wet frustrated noise low in the back of his throat and planted his good heel on the mattress, bucked up and back against Cor’s mouth, jarring the other man’s teeth against his rim. “Cor,” Ardyn whined, “I can hardly _feel_ that.”

\--

Ardyn kept making frustrated, unhappy noises, and Cor laughed quietly into his skin as the other man shoved his ass back against him. He loved it when Ardyn whined his name like that, desperate for him, and rolled his aching cock down against the mattress. “Needy,” he muttered good-naturedly, but he gave him what he wanted.

Alongside the first finger, he slid two more into him, working them in and pulling him open. He nipped and licked at the ring of muscle, spread his fingers and curled them inside him and pressed his tongue in, too, getting him wet with spit. Then he pressed in a fourth finger and shoved them in deep, reaching into him and coaxing him open further, shuddering at how good he felt, how easy it was to open him up again even without lube, and kept licking at his entrance, sliding his tongue in and out around his fingers.

\--

Cor was complaining at him as he replied, and Ardyn huffed, pulling on his hair to drag him closer. One finger became three almost immediately, and Ardyn whined out a hot breath of arousal, the width of them peeling him open, and clenched down happily around the base of Cor’s knuckles. “Yes,” Ardyn murmured, rocking up into the other man’s hold, into the tongue fucking between Cor’s fingers. “Your hands are so good,” Ardyn murmured, grabbing at Cor’s hair. “Oh, you fingerfuck me so well. Cor, your tongue is so _hot_.” He shuddered, trembling in the other man’s grasp. “Will you fuck me with your fingers, _please?_ ” He didn’t need to beg for it, but Cor did love him begging for it. Ardyn could deliver.

\--

Ardyn dragged him closer, clenched down around him, and rocked his hips up against him, and between that and all the encouraging praise and the way Ardyn felt and tasted, Cor was all hard and flushed and starting to get more than a little desperate himself. He loved the way Ardyn felt against his fingertips on the inside, how smooth and hot he was. He loved how tightly the other man gripped his hair, the way his name sounded on Ardyn’s lips when he was like this. He could feel his heartbeat, could feel him trembling for more, and as soon as Ardyn started to beg he did just what he wanted, aching in arousal.

He fucked him with all four fingers, easing them out and pushing them in, licking around his hole and pressing, just a little, against his prostate each time he curled his fingers into him again. Ardyn loved it so much when Cor touched him and fucked him, and pressed his face in as close as he could, getting his tongue in him again too, to get him wetter as he sped up the pace, just for a little while. He didn’t want the other man to come like this, he wanted to get his cock in him first.

\--

By the time Cor was fingerfucking him and licking his rim and dragging on his prostate, Ardyn was a sloppy mess, his own fingers pressed into his mouth and moaning as he rolled back on the other man’s hand, dragging his face closer and his tongue deeper into Ardyn’s hole, riding his fingers and milking how good it felt to have that pressure against his prostate, working him up. “Just like that, Marshal,” Ardyn whispered, slurred. “Oh, I could come just like this, on your fingers.” And his tongue, and the teeth on his rim, sparking want up his spine with every motion. “Six, get your cock in me, please, I want you to fuck me.” Ardyn groaned, frustrated and overwhelmed and on-edge. “Come back up here and get your big fat cockhead up on my prostate, Cor.”

\--

Ardyn was moaning for him and rocking desperately against him, trying to get him closer, and Cor groaned at his words. They came out all slurred and heated and beautiful, and he wanted to get his cock in him, too, more than anything. He gasped, panting at Ardyn’s desperate, frustrated order, his entire face flushed and his cock hard and leaking.

“Yes,” he breathed, nearly moaning. “Yes.” He pulled his fingers out of the other man, tugging on his rim as he jerked them out, and licked at his gorgeous open hole with one long stroke of his tongue before he pulled away. When he was done, he just had to sit back and look at him for a second, staring at his fluttering entrance, so open he could see inside him. Ardyn’s cock was hard and red between his thighs, his balls drawn up, and as Cor stared at him, he quickly undid his own fly, shoved his trousers and underwear down around his hips and shook them off.

Even before he’d quite finished shaking them to the bottom of the bed, he moved up beside the other man on the mattress again, resting on his side. He kissed his shoulder, leaned in closer and kissed his neck. “Your Majesty,” he muttered. “Roll onto your side for me. I want to try it like this.” Mostly, in interest of Ardyn’s hip, and Cor’s ageing joints, and he coaxed him onto his side so he could curl up against his back, his cock pressing up along the crack of his ass. And like that, with his face pressed against Ardyn’s shoulder and the waves of red hair that fell across his neck, he took his own cock in hand, stroked himself once with his own precome, and nudged the head up against his King’s gorgeous hole, open and aching and ready for him. As he pushed in, he gasped once, then shoved in the rest of the way in one hard, aching thrust.

\--

Cor pulled back and away, dragging out on Ardyn’s rim and leaving him open and dripping, one last lave of his tongue a gentle reminder, and Ardyn cocked his good leg out, pulled his hole open so that Cor could look up into him, see all of him, every inch. Cor’s blue eyes were fever-bright, and Ardyn smiled like a cat with the cream as he looked up through his eyelashes at the other man. “Like what you see, Marshal?” He’d gotten Ardyn all riled up, his balls tight and his cock throbbing, but he’d hardly thought about his erection with Cor’s mouth on him.

Apparently Cor did, because he was stripping as fast as he could, and Ardyn leaned up into his touch, fingers tangling in his short hair again to pull him down and over, rolling like Cor asked, his good leg still up in the air. “All right,” Ardyn murmured, rolling his hips back against the other man’s erection, grinding pre into the crack of his ass, scraping his tender, slick rim along Cor’s length, a muffled sound in his throat at how good it felt now that Cor had gotten him so swollen.

And then Cor was stroking himself, and just-this-side of not slick enough, Cor followed Ardyn pulling himself open and pushed up and up and in, until he as as deep as he could be the angle getting Cor almost _painfully_ far inside, the tip of his cock pushing up past Ardyn’s rectum and deeper into him just like he loved best. “Fuck,” he gasped, hissing between his teeth, clawing at Cor’s hip one-handed, before he laughed, breathless. “All your damn lube has spoiled me; it’s almost better with it.”

\--

Cor laughed breathlessly into his curls as Ardyn cursed and hissed, fingers digging into his hip. “Really,” he muttered, placing his hand over Ardyn’s where the other man was grabbing him, tangling their fingers together as he rocked into him. “I never thought I’d hear you say something like that.” He smiled, nudging his hair aside to get to his neck, pressing his face against his skin. “You like how slick and wet it makes you? I can get it if you want it, just say the word. You’re so wide open I could pour it right in.”

He grinned, bit at the slope of his neck and closed his eyes, rocking deep into him, so deep. Ardyn was always hot and tight around him (looser, now, though, but not any the worse for it) and he never grew tired of it, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever been _this_ deep before. It was a wonderful angle.

\--

Cor grabbed for his hand and Ardyn grunted and pulled Cor’s palm over to cup one of his tits, nipple peaked and squeezed between Cor’s broad fingers as he hooked his knee behind the other man’s and hauled him closer like that. “If you would just so be a dear,” Ardyn murmured, smiling. “If you’re going to get your fingers in there as well, you’ll need it.” He giggled again. “I’m not so loose as all that, although if you keep this up regularly I _will_ be.”

\--

Ardyn pulled his hand over to cup his chest, soft and dusted with hair, and Cor let out a shaky breath, squeezed and ground his nipple between his fingers, shoving their hips closer. It was perfect, so perfect. There couldn’t be anything better in the world than Ardyn in his arms like that, their hips pressed close, his cock as deep in him as he could possibly reach.

“Oh, I am,” he breathed, smiling, nuzzling the side of his neck. “Let me get it.” He kissed his skin and pulled away, just enough to reach for the drawer, to grab the lube. “It will be easier,” he muttered, “if I pull out first. I’ll come right back.”

He’d been so deep and shoved in so quickly, but when he pulled out it was slower, and he hissed between his teeth, got a good bit of lube on his fingers pressed it against the other man’s entrance and rubbed it over the muscle, already a little slicked by his spit. For just a moment, he pushed his hips down flat on the bed, squeezed out more lube, let it slide down into him, and then slicked his cock with a good bit as well. When he was done, he pulled Ardyn back, just like they’d been before, and this time, slid up into him much more easily, and comfortably, and sighed at the feeling, pulling him close.

“Oh, there,” he breathed, kissing his shoulder, aligning their hips. With one hand, he cupped his chest, played with one nipple, and slid the other down between them, to feel where his cock met the other man’s ass, where Ardyn was stretched out around his length, his swollen rim hardly tight around him from years of taking Cor. “Better?”

\--

Ardyn groaned. “Don’t,” he whined, grabbing for Cor to pull him back as the other man rolled away. “I want your dick, dammit.” The bedside table drawer was open and shut in the time it took him to bitch, and he huffed, flopping over back into Cor’s space to take up his half of the bed, feeling empty and bereft and cold without Cor’s cock stuffing him up. He was whining a constant low moan in his throat as Cor came back over, fingered him loose again with lube, slid some up into his gaping hole, and then pushed right back in up to the base. Like he was meant to fit there; Cor the sword and Ardyn his sheath.

He supposed that was rather poetic.

Rolling back against Cor, splayed over him, Ardyn sighed in pleasure and met his first thrust midway, taking his motion and turning it into friction and pressure. “Much,” he admitted, kissing Cor’s knuckles over his chest, grabbing for his hip again. “You’re so good. You going to take me apart, Marshal?”

\--

It was sort of endearing, how much Ardyn whined while he was gone, and how happy the other man was the moment he returned, his cock thrust deep up into him again, and Cor tucked warm around Ardyn’s back, holding him close. He smiled when Ardyn asked if he was going to take him apart, twisted his nipple between his finger and thumb and spread his palm over his warm, soft chest, sliding his fingers up to touch his neck. “That was the idea,” he muttered, face shoved into the other man’s hair again. Every time Ardyn told him how good he was, he just wanted to pull him closer, fuck him move, hold him there forever.

He cupped the other man’s balls in his other hand, stroked the base of his cock with his thumb as he started fucking up into him, pulling out just enough to get good friction when he pushed back in again, shoving in deep. He wanted Ardyn to feel it all the way up his spine, feel like Cor was splitting him in two.

He trailed his fingers up the other man’s length, palmed the head where it was leaking, then moved back down, brushing through the curls of red hair between his legs. He touched the inside of his thigh gently, and when he thrust in again, settled in deep and felt at Ardyn’s entrance, spread the cheeks of his ass just to push in a little bit more, and moaned against his shoulder. “I couldn’t possibly get any more of my cock in you,” he muttered. “But I know you want my fingers…” He pressed experimentally at his entrance. His fingers were still slick from lubing Ardyn and himself, and he pushed the tip of one in alongside his cock, tugging on the muscle.

\--

Cor kept muffling his voice in Ardyn’s hair, burrowing into it, and he huffed another giggle at the way the man was hiding in it. Cor’s hand was on his balls, stroking his cock, and he rolled back into him again. “You trying to get me to choke on that, Marshall?” It came out a heated whisper. “Get your cock all up in me and have me choke on it? You can fuck me well enough, I’m sure I can.” It helped that Cor was feeling over his cockhead, thumb brushing through his slit, before he dragged his fingers down and dug one fingertip up into Ardyn along with his length, a pleased little squeal high in the back of his throat at the feeling Ardyn shuddering all over with his eyes shut in bliss.

“Yes,” Ardyn hissed, absolutely delighted, spreading his thighs and fucking himself on Cor’s dick, “Yes, absolutely, do that, your fingers are so fucking big.”

\--

Ardyn made a gorgeous, delighted sound when Cor pressed his finger into him, and Cor smiled into his hair, pressed his lips to the back of his shoulder. “You really love that,” he mumbled, pleased, and rocked into him as Ardyn started fucking himself on his cock, his thighs spread wide.

Cor pulled him closer, slid his finger in deeper, hissing as he felt it up alongside his cock, adding to the friction. It felt incredibly good and he shuddered, jerked his hips forward harder. “I want to see how many you can take,” he muttered, working a second finger in up alongside the first, gasping quietly as he tugged on the muscle, pulled him open even further, and Ardyn just kept stretching more and more for him. Nudging his hair aside, he bit down on the slope of his shoulder beside a mark he’d already left, sucking hard to leave another. “You want more?” he asked as he pushed those two fingers in deeper, tugging on his rim as he thrust up into him.

\--

Cor sounded so pleased with himself, and Ardyn hummed. “Well, yes,” he replied, clenching down on Cor’s cock, milking the weight of his shaft and the finger inside him. “That’s why I like it in me.” Shifting his free hand over, Ardyn wrapped his fingers around the base of his dick to try and stave off his own orgasm, building high and tight in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t going to be able to keep from making a mess like this without it. Being surrounded by heat and with his rim aching from being so wide, it left him terribly needy.

Especially with Cor biting on his shoulder, sucking another livid mark into his skin. Ardyn shuddered, hard, against him, whined. “You know how many,” he managed after a moment, his tongue dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Wasn’t it two last time?” Years before, though. Cor had really fucking ruined his ass in the intervening time.

Ardyn clenched down, hard as he could, to still the other man inside him, rolled back as far as he could to bite at Cor’s ear. “Want to try and see if you can fit four in?”

\--

Ardyn clenched hard around his cock and Cor panted quietly, watched over his shoulder as the other man grabbed his cock to hold himself off, to make it last. “Yeah,” he breathed, thrusting up into him again as Ardyn whined for him, trembling against him in need. “It was two.” He was pretty sure, anyway. It had been a long time ago, but he still remembered that night very clearly. He remembered fisting him, and how open and wet Ardyn had been, and how far gone he was as Cor ruined him.

He moaned when Ardyn clenched down again, harder, holding him inside, tucked his head over Ardyn’s shoulder and gasped quietly as the other man bit at his ear. “Yes,” he muttered, already nudging a third finger at his entrance. “Yes, I do.” He smiled, pressed their faces together and nipped at his lips as he worked that finger in, pressing it between the tight muscle and his cock to slide in alongside the others. He was going to lose his mind between how warm Ardyn was against him and how hot he was inside, and the pressure and friction of his own fingers against his cock as he shoved them in and stretched the other man out as much as he could. “Good?” he asked, rocking his hips into him. “You want the fourth?”

\--

Cor curled further around him, chin hooked over his shoulder, third finger sliding up inside him. Ardyn hissed at the stretch, a low moan of pain bottled up in his throat, but somehow held on despite it. He was a little too tight for this kind of stretch, but he wanted to do it. “Yes. Need a minute.” Relaxing was harder than it should have been, rolling his hips back and forth, fucking himself and his _aching_ rim on Cor’s cock and fingers. He just shuddered a pained breath, closed his eyes, rolled his face into the pillow, and pressed his thumb harder to the vein on his underside to keep from coming just a few minutes longer. “It’s good,” Ardyn moaned, voice shaking. “Fuck me first, _please_ , Marshal. Break me open more, let me feel you jack yourself off inside me. Fuck, please. Gods, Cor, please, it feels so good, _you_ feel so good.” He was babbling, but the overstimulation was something fantastic and terrible all at once, and Ardyn wasn’t sure if it was the fullness that was getting him or the absolute pain of being stretched past his breaking point that was.

\--

Ardyn moaned for him as Cor stretched him around his fingers and his cock, and he stopped and nodded when Ardyn said he needed a minute. Gently, he dragged his other hand up Ardyn’s chest, brushing his fingers through the sparse hair there, then settled his palm over one of his tits, rubbing at the nipple and cupping the soft muscle. He kissed along his neck, up to where it met his jaw, and sighed against him, moaning quietly as Ardyn fucked himself on his cock.

Ardyn was so beautiful in his arms it made him ache, made his chest tight with affection as he felt every shaky breath, every beat of his heart, and he kissed his ear as the other man relaxed more, face in the pillow.

He’d been idly rocking his hips forward, letting Ardyn fuck himself however much he wanted, but when Ardyn asked him to, begged for it, said all of those things, Cor let out a hard, shaky breath. He really was practically grabbing his cock while it was inside the other man and he groaned as he started fucking him, pulling out, but not enough that his fingers slid free before he thrust back in. He worked up a hard, even pace, mouthing at Ardyn’s bony shoulder and gasping when he pushed in again. He could feel himself pulling hard on Ardyn’s rim, stretching him so much he wasn’t even sure if he could _get_ a fourth finger in. “Gods,” he moaned, fucking him a little faster. “There’s so much of me inside you. Tell me how it feels. Tell me what you want.”

\--

Cor was feeling up his chest, fingers avoiding his tender scars and grabbing instead at his nipple, and Ardyn made a frustrated noise, let go of his cock to grab Cor’s hand by the wrist and bring it to his throat, force the other man to wrap his broad fingers around Ardyn’s neck.

Ardyn just grabbed onto the sheets and hung on for dear life as Cor started fucking him, every thrust feeling like it was turning him inside out. He could feel Cor’s knuckles widening as he thrust into his hand, and kept crying out, his own cock throbbing hard between his thighs, his balls drawn up tight and painful. “Like I’m going to tear in two,” he wheezed, eyes shut, focusing just on the feeling of being so open. “Fuck, Cor, it hurts so much, it hurts so much.” There were tears on his lashes, and he was trembling, drenched in sweat, his hair matted to his forehead and neck, his body a live-wire with the near ecstasy of it.

Clutching the other man’s broad, powerful wrist, Ardyn rocked back hard onto him and nodded, his coherence failing him, “Please, another, please, please. I want it to bleed, Cor, please, make it hurt in the morning, it hurts so much. Please, fuck me with your hand and your cock, I need it, you do it so well and I—”

\--

Ardyn took his wrist, bringing Cor’s hand to his throat and Cor obediently wrapped his fingers around his neck, holding on for a moment, then starting to squeeze. He cried out beautifully as Cor fucked him and he didn’t want to stifle those sounds just yet.

He moaned as Ardyn told him exactly how it felt, how much it hurt, and Cor could feel him shaking, gasping, his heart pounding. He was covered in sweat just from the desperation and the heat between them and Cor was, too, his chest sticking to Ardyn’s back.

“Gods,” he choked out, because Ardyn’s begging was making him leak terribly inside the other man, making him ache to come. “I will,” he assured him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck as he applied more pressure on his throat, squeezing harder. “I will, I’ll give you everything.”

As he reassured him, squeezing his throat even harder, he pressed that last, fourth finger into him, wedging it in alongside the others. Ardyn was so tight around him it took a moment before he got the tip to slide in, and a moment after that as he slowly worked it in deeper. “There,” he muttered when it was done, and shuddered hard against him at the feeling of half his hand shoved up inside him alongside his throbbing cock.

He started fucking him again, just like he had before, in short, hard thrusts, pressing deep up into him. He spread his fingers out along his length, felt the way his knuckles pulled the other man’s rim wider as he pushed in and out, and groaned at the feel of it, and the fact that Ardyn could take so much of him, _wanted_ to be full with his fingers and cock.

“Are you going to come like this?” he ground out against the shell of his ear, fingers digging into his neck, thrusting into him harder. “I can stroke my cock inside you, I’ve got half my hand in you and it feels so good. This,” he swallowed hard, panting as he shoved their hips together. “I’ve never felt so close to you. You must be bleeding you’re so stuffed full and I can feel every inch of you against me while I fuck you and it’s so good. I want to come inside you, Your Majesty, and fill you even more.”

\--

Between the hand around his throat and the hand spreading him open, Ardyn’s vision was whiteout and his body was on fire, his legs and arms overtensed and bunching up as he curled in toward himself, clawing blunt-nailed at Cor’s wrist. When he felt Cor pushing a fourth fingertip into him, his puffy, swollen, abused rim barely taking the strain, papercut tears hurting and making him want to yell, his whole ass burning, his cock so hard it felt it might burst, his prostate _achingly_ swollen, his balls painful, and there was nothing stopping him but—

When Cor whispered _there_ that was. Too much, too much, enough, and Ardyn yelled, dug his nails into Cor’s forearm as he came untouched, clenching down so hard he could feel his body pushing the other man’s fingers back out of him, trying to squeeze down but so loose and fucked-wide that he couldn’t much more than he was, just milking Cor’s fingers and cock inside him, the pressure riding the other man’s knuckles hard up against his prostate until he was dry-heaving for air, his come hot and tacky on the base of his stomach and the sheets, his cockhead jumping with every pulse and throb.

Ardyn tried to wail at the other man’s question, but all he got out was a hoarse, ruined noise of, “Not _twice_ I _can’t_ ,” because his cock was flagging already, but he felt somehow undone, rolling on and into another and still going, coming apart at the seams as Cor fucked, hard up into him, knuckles scraping and jarring across that swollen, pleasure-painful point of fire and want inside of him, and he just shook apart in Cor’s arms, teeth bared, hardly breathing, with a single, heated, “ _Please.”_ He wanted Cor to fuck his come inside him, wanted the other man to breed his loose, raw, ruined ass, make it so that he never went back to normal again and Cor could just fuck into and open him up whenever he wanted, so that he was the shape of the other man’s dick for the rest of his life.

\--

Ardyn had come once already, sudden and hard, and insisted he couldn’t come a second time. That was probably true, he seemed exhausted, clenching tight around him, gasping for breath, but Cor still held tight to his throat the way he knew Ardyn would want him to as he fucked him and kept fucking him.

He wanted to come so badly and he was so, so close, he rolled Ardyn over a little, pushed him down against the mattress to get better leverage and bit down hard on his shoulder, over one of the marks he’d already left, as he fucked desperately into him. Ardyn was trembling and overstimulated and beautiful beneath him, and when Ardyn begged for it, it was only a few more hard, unforgiving thrusts before he still deep inside him and came, groaning and sobbing and gasping for breath. He rode it out, rocking into him, moaned at the way he could feel his own come against his fingers, moaned at how full the other man was of him, and how much he loved it.

“Ardyn,” he half-sobbed as he let go of his throat and carefully eased his fingers out of him one by one. With the other man still seated on his cock, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him tight against his chest, mashed his face into the side of his neck as he breathed. He pressed his sticky fingers to Ardyn’s stomach, which was already a mess, and the other against his chest. “Gods, you’re so good.”

\--

Cor rolled him over, shoved him into the sheets, muffling what little noise Ardyn could make around the hand choking him senseless, and fucked into him deep and in those long drawn-out thrusts that were root to tip and left him dazed as Cor finally came in him, so deep Ardyn knew it would be dripping out of him for probably days. He was pretty sure he had the residual feel of a dry, rolling orgasm as Cor pulled his fingers out of him, his rim stretching and the other man’s knuckles, then his cock, digging hard into his aching prostate. On top of everything else, the bite marks bruising on top of one another on his shoulders, the new handprint on his throat, it was close to too much.

Ardyn just shut his eyes and smiled, stupid and stupid-pleased, into the bedsheets, and let Cor cuddle him like a big, overenthusiastic dog, nose and beard mashed into the sensitive skin on the side of Ardyn’s neck, just under his jaw, his sticky fingers plastered to the skin of Ardyn’s chest.

Humming, he trailed his fingers over the other man’s forearm, fingertips sliding into the indentations between his tendons on his hand. “Oh,” Ardyn murmured, pleased, his voice ragged and hoarse and clearly well-fucked, “You’re something wonderful, you know that?”

\--

Ardyn’s fingers trailed up his arm with all the affection in the world, eventually resting over his hand, and Cor let out a contented, shuddering sigh and melted against him. That praise, whispered warmly in Ardyn’s hoarse, fucked out voice made him smile even more, and he pulled him closer, squeezing the other man against him.

“Well, I should hope I know what my King likes,” he muttered, grinned and kissed his neck, nuzzled just below his ear. “What my _husband_ likes.” It still felt strange to say but it made him feel warm all over, tingling with happiness. He knew he would never tell anyone else, but it didn’t matter. It was perfect, just between the two of them. “That was just what I wanted, too.” He hummed quietly. “I love you so much.” He would get up and clean them off in a little bit. First, he just wanted to lay there for a few moments longer.

\--

Cor practically melted against him, all suffused heat and pleasure in his touches, and Ardyn giggled into the sheets as the other man squished him close. “Stop it,” Ardyn giggled again, laughing as Cor rubbed his nose and stubble just below his ear, the hollow there sensitive. “Don’t say that.” He gentled, though, fingers trailing over Cor’s hand, and for a moment, Ardyn had to shut his eyes and bite back an ugly noise, his face tensing with anguish.

Cor could never know.

“I know,” he murmured at last, relaxing consciously back into a smile. “I know you do.” He felt disgusting; his ass was so loose that he couldn’t even begin to clench it closed, his hips ached fiercely, his throat was sore. But… “Stay,” Ardyn said, rolling back on his side, on Cor’s cock still soft in him, to look up at the other man. “We can clean up in the morning. Just stay; please.”

\--

Cor smiled against his skin, as Ardyn giggled, tensing against him, then sighed as he grew quiet. Too much of him wanted this to last forever. He knew it wouldn’t, couldn’t, but still. He kissed his neck again, gently. They were both sticky and covered in sweat, but when Ardyn rolled back towards him, onto his soft cock, and looked up at him, asking him to stay, Cor let out a quiet breath. He couldn’t say no to that.

“I’ll stay,” he promised, kissed his jawline and held him close, curled protectively around him. He reached down for the blanket, pulled it up over them both, and closed his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

\--

Cor was looking at him in a way that made Ardyn desperately want to touch the other man, and he contented himself with running his fingers over Cor’s side, to feel the weight he’d gained at his hips and waist, to reassure himself Cor was real. Love was a dangerous, dangerous thing; he’d learned that lesson long ago.

And here he was, anyway.

“Mmm,” Ardyn grumbled, sprawling over the other man. “Good.”

He fell asleep. It was foolish, but he was _tired_. It had been months since he’d given in to that siren call. His dreams were drowsy and hazy and _ugly_ things, and Ardyn woke with a start late or early enough that his internal clock was wildly off, and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. His head was pounding like someone had taken a hammer and nail through his temples, and the Armiger scar in the centre of his chest felt like it went all the way through him, burning and buzzing. He’d jarred himself out of sleep, and Cor had sprawled comfortably over his back and shoulder, fingers warm on the base of his stomach. He was dead asleep, snoring, and Ardyn winced, his ass aching and still gaping loose as he slid off the other man’s soft cock, pushed himself out of bed.

He barely made it to the bathroom, and threw up black bile that burned his mouth and his throat into the sink. When he was done, shaking, sweat dotting his brow, Ardyn leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the mirror, closed his eyes, and cried low and quiet as to be sure he wouldn’t wake Cor.

Just a little longer, now. Just a little longer.

Almost there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (lemony snicket voice)  
> I highly recommend that if you like happy fics with happy endings you consider this to be... the 'happy' end. Do not read the next chapter. Go do something happy with your life. This story can only get very miserable very fast from here. So utterly miserable we're going to be tagging some if not all of the chapters from now on with content tags in the notes at the beginning of each chapter as well as in the tags for the whole fic.
> 
> Aren't you glad Ardyn and Cor have a happy married life together where nothing bad ever happens, they find a way to bring the sun back without sacrificing anyone, Ardyn's Starscourge is magically cured, Noctis and all his friends live, and Ardyn and Cor retire to a farm where they live out their years together?
> 
> Boy I'm so glad this fic only has 17 chapters and ends today. I'm so... glad..... ......
> 
> *also a note here that on our timeline Cor was 42 during the events of kingsglaive/the first part of the game. we started writing this before they changed it to 45 so. he was 42.


	18. suicide in your arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was sure it would be fine, and he’d return to Ardyn cooking happily in the kitchen, like he always did.
> 
> But when he opened the door and called out that he was home, there were no scents or sounds of cooking, and no response. 
> 
> The lights were off. 
> 
> It was dead quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [mother mother's "arms tonite"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0xdQ8ES9fc)
> 
> tags for this chapter: extremely graphic suicide, blood, traumatic events, ptsd, adult fear
> 
> if you have any chance of being triggered by a traumatic suicide _do not read this_.
> 
> otherwise... enjoy...
> 
> and come back next week. :')

Shortly after his birthday, Cor and Cid finally sat down and got the last missing part installed in his motorcycle’s engine. They got her running beautifully, and she looked almost as good as new. After that, it was only a matter of time before he was needed on another hunting trip.

This one in particular would take him, Iris, Gladio, and Dave out towards Hammerhead, to take care of some daemons causing trouble near the road, threatening the safe passage of the people driving back and forth. He knew it would be a few days before he returned, and he was almost reluctant to leave Ardyn alone for that long. He knew the others would understand if he told them Altum was simply not doing well enough for him to be gone for more than a day at most, but they really did need him, and Ardyn had been all right the last time.

Even so, he was hesitant, but Ardyn assured him he would be okay, and Cor believed him. So he kissed him and, somewhat reluctantly, left.

\--

Ardyn was good at lying, but Cor saw through him like clear water, and there was only so much he could do to keep a secret. Cor would learn eventually, and his sudden call to a hunt was perhaps far more of a gift than the other man had any idea. Ardyn promised he would be fine, which was a lie, but he managed to fake it the first day that Cor was gone.

Then the silence started to get to him.

In the silence, he could hear everything the daemons whispered to him. Whispers about how Cor would not come back, about how Aranea would tell everyone. Whispers telling him to run while he still could, to kill the boys so Noctis would come back without the strength to go on. So he would fail, so he wouldn’t succeed.

The migraine built up like water behind a dam, first in his jaw and then behind his eyes and his ears, then in his sinuses and his forehead. It reached the point he couldn’t see, his vision blacked out, and it didn’t stop. Without someone else there, _something_ else there to distract him, there was nothing but the rising bile in the back of his throat like he was drowning, his lungs and chest full, and the constant whispers speaking _SCREAMING_ they wouldn’t _stop_ they wouldn’t hush and it was just too much, it was all too much.

Without Cor, there was nothing doing for it. He had nowhere to go, and if he came crazed to someone else he’d die for it, die or worse. His Armiger was useless here, the blades would live and die with him. Years before he’d locked the knives away, hidden them, made sure they weren’t—

He found them with shaking hands. Nicked his fingers on the blades of the first one he got. Breathed in.

Ardyn never even felt the blade pierce his breast, home into his heart. He didn’t feel anything at all except _silence_ , embedding the knife up into the hilt in his chest, so it couldn’t slide out, would stay killing him, an endless cycle where he could never rise for longer than a few bubbling heartbeats and back, and back, and back. Silence was worth a trade, silence was—

\--

The hunt went well enough. They found the daemons in question halfway between Lestallum and Hammerhead and camped there for two nights as they hunted and killed each one that gathered there, the beasts all drawn to each other’s presence. On the third day, when they declared the area safe enough again for travel, the four of them returned to the city. Cor was home by nightfall, just after their normal dinnertime. He’d texted Ardyn that he was going to be home a little later than he thought but got no reply. He tried not to let that worry him too much. He was probably just busy, or maybe his phone was dead.

He hurried back as fast as he could anyway, put his bike away and said goodbye to the others, climbing the stairs to their apartment. He was sure it would be fine, and he’d return to Ardyn cooking happily in the kitchen, like he always did.

But when he opened the door and called out that he was home, there were no scents or sounds of cooking, and no response. The lights were off. It was dead quiet.

He shut the door behind him and locked it, took his coat and boots off. “Ardyn?” he called. He couldn’t imagine the other man had left. He would have said something. At least—Cor hoped he would have. Maybe he just had a headache and went to lie down.

He moved from the entryway to the kitchen, the familiar path he always walked when he got home. Something smelled… wrong. It was like rusted metal and he knew that smell, but it didn’t fit. It took him until just before he turned the light on to place it.

It was blood.

As the kitchen light flicked on, Cor stood, frozen in horror. Ardyn was there, eyes staring sightless and body limp, and there was blood, and a knife in his chest… so much blood. He’d been trained through years of military service not to panic in any given situation, but he… he couldn’t move. He gripped the door frame, hands shaking, all of him shaking. It was everything, everything he’d been terrified of coming to pass and he tried to blink it away for a moment, wished it was just some kind of a nightmare, but the scent of dried blood was filling his nostrils and roiling his stomach and all the instinct he’d developed through years of training and service to royalty was screaming at him to act. He couldn’t just stand there, he had to something… something.

“Oh, Gods.” He tore himself away from the doorframe, rushed into the room and knelt in the pool of blood beside the other man. Ardyn was on the floor, leaned with his back against the cabinets, stiff and still. “Ardyn,” Cor muttered, hands hovering over him, shaking harder. He was immortal… immortal, so he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t die. But by sticking that knife in his chest, he must have created some kind of semblance of it, for himself, and Cor shook harder. There were tears welling up in his eyes, and he pulled the other man into his arms, Ardyn’s head against his shoulder as he grabbed the handle of the knife and gently pulled it free, letting it clatter to the floor. Ardyn was still bleeding but his body would knit back together, Cor had seen it happen before, had _killed_ him before, but this was different, Ardyn had done this to himself, and Cor hadn’t been there, and _he should have been there_.

“Ardyn,” he whispered, the pained, guilt-ridden tears streaming down his cheeks. Ardyn had lied. He said he’d be fine and he _wasn’t_. How long had he been lying? How long had it been _this_ bad? He thought they’d had more time, more time than this, and the fact that Ardyn might have been faking it just to make him happy—hurt more than anything.

“No, no,” he breathed quietly to himself, rocking the other man gently in his arms, stroking his hair with trembling fingers. “This is all, all wrong. I’ll never leave you alone again, never. I never, ever should have. I’m so sorry. Please, Ardyn.” If it was that bad, he didn’t even know if Ardyn would _want_ to come back. He didn’t know what to do. “Please… please,” he whispered, as he shook and held him and cried quietly. He didn’t care at all about the blood on his clothes or anything, he just wanted him back, wanted to help him, somehow, wanted everything to at least be a little bit all right again.

\--

_Wake up | Let’s go | Surgit | Get up | It’s time to get up | Surgit | You don’t want us to go without you, do you | Wake up | Surgit | Ardyn |_

(Far away, _Please, Ardyn._ )

The first beat of his heart properly shot blood into his mouth and out the closing hole in his chest and Ardyn choked, coughing, gagging on vomit and bile and black ichor and his own black blood, spitting it between his teeth. His heart just kept on beating, pounding in his chest, so loud he could hear it in his ears.

He just kept choking and coughing out blood, his fingers scrabbling at whatever was holding him up, solid and warm. “Let me go,” he slurred, tongue heavy and leaden, too weak to move. He was trembling and seizing, and it had been dark and quiet for so long. Now there was light blaring against his eyelids and the whispers were back. But only whispers. No screams.  “Please.”

\--

In any normal situation, he would have asked for help. If it was anyone else, he should have. But Ardyn was… Ardyn, and he had to handle it on his own, as much as he didn’t want to. He wanted to do what was right, but it was impossible to know what was right when he was in love with someone who was more daemon than man, immortal and unstoppable. But Ardyn loved him, too, and that made everything so much more difficult. It always had. He’d always known something like this might happen. He’d always known he would have to watch Ardyn waste away, lose what little was left of him. He’d tried to be prepared for it, but how could he ever have been prepared for… this.

He thought they had so much more time, even after Ardyn’s continued insistence that his was growing short. And suddenly all those years they’d spent together felt like they’d gone by far too fast. Just memories now, just dust in the wind. He would never get those years back.

After a while, he could feel Ardyn’s heartbeat returning, and the other man coughed in his arms, spurting blood, coughing up more of it. His fingers grabbed sightlessly at Cor, and asked to be let go, his voice slurred and grating. Cor let him go without even a question. He still didn’t really understand how his regeneration worked, and he wasn’t about to get in the way of it. The knife, though, he took and tucked it close to him just in case Ardyn tried to reach for it. “It’s all right,” he tried to say, soothingly. “It’s just me, I’m here.” And he wondered, just how long Ardyn had been like that for while he was out on his hunt. Days? From the moment he left? He swallowed hard at that thought and wished, again, that he’d never gone in the first place, that he’d listened to his gut and stayed home and kept this from happening.

\--

There was someone holding him, holding him up, and Ardyn knew—guessed—as he started to remember, to understand, that it had to be Cor. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, wheezing, as the other man let him go. He tried to put his hand down and it slipped in something, vaguely wet and tacky, and he overbalanced, weight going out from under him as he coughed up more blood, slamming facefirst into the ground with a surprised yelp, his eyes and nose stinging, his upper lip cut halfway through by his teeth. “Mea culpa, mea paenitet. I didn’t—” he coughed again, one trembling hand pressed to his chest, to the wound over his heart. It had sealed up, but blood, black and vile was still spurting. It was too bright. Far too bright.

Ardyn gave up on trying to sit back up and just settled facedown on the floor, his blood-mat hair spilled around his face. “I didn’t mean to make a mess,” he settled on at last, something almost akin to an ugly sob building up at the back of his throat.

\--

Ardyn seemed to realize it was him, but he put his hand down and slipped, fell over onto his face, coughing up blood. Cor wasn’t even fast enough to catch him, and after he’d fallen, was reluctant to move him suddenly. He didn’t want to startle him while he was still regaining coherence, coughing up blood and probably aching as his body healed.

He really was a mess, but at the least he was making a slow return to consciousness, and didn’t seem to be overly struggling with the daemons inside him. He seemed like… himself, just… out of it, mumbling in Old Lucian, apologizing for the mess.

Cor shook his head, gently reaching for him. He touched his shoulder, ran his hand down his back. “It’s all right,” he assured him. He wasn’t actively crying anymore, but he still felt on the verge of it, his cheeks still wet with tear stains. “We’ll clean it up later. It doesn’t matter right now. I just want you to be okay.”

\--

A warm hand touched his shoulder, his back, and Ardyn made a wet, broken noise low in the back of his throat as he finally managed to get his hands under him, pushed back upright. His nose wasn’t broken, but his lip was bleeding something fierce, and he felt dazed.

He hadn’t been dead that long—he didn’t even know how long he’d _been_ dead.

Arms shaking like a newborn chocobo, Ardyn rolled back to slump against the cabinets, and took in what he could see of the kitchen through his half-lidded eyes, vision hazy and blurry. There was blood _everywhere_ , all over the tile, black and most of it dried now. It was all over his body; his clothes were ruined, completely caked in it. They’d have to throw them away. Cor, when he looked at the other man, was holding the bloody knife and had Ardyn’s blood all over him, too, and Ardyn hesitated.

It had seemed so easy at the time. There was no quiet ( _you should have stayed dead | it would have been easier | you shouldn’t have waited for him to come back | just kill him now so he can go with you | mihi placet, mihi placet, cor mortuus est_ ) either before or after and it hadn’t stopped. It had all hurt so much. It had just been overwhelming. It had just—he’d just needed it to stop. Needed anything to stop.

But now, in the somehow too-harsh light of the kitchen, staring at Cor with blood and tears on his face, Ardyn realised for the first time just what he’d done. Just. How.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse with disuse, hands trembling, as he reached, hesitated, afraid, afraid Cor would push him away because— “I just. I didn’t mean to make such a mess. I just meant—

“It just wouldn’t be quiet.”

And, with that, Ardyn curled his face into his blood-caked knees and burst into ugly, hot, overwhelmed tears, filthy and fierce and awful.

\--

Ardyn somehow managed to push himself up again, to lean against the cabinets. The noise he made was terrible, watching him try to move was heartbreaking, and Cor still didn’t really know what to do. Ardyn was looking around, at the kitchen, at him, at the knife, and Cor slowly put it down on the floor, watching him warily. He could see the realization dawning in the other man’s bright amber eyes, the full impact of what he’d done finally hitting him, and Cor almost started crying again, shaking a little.

It was only made worse by the way Ardyn almost reached for him as he apologized. Almost, and then stopped himself. Stopped, like Cor would refuse him, turn him away, think he was disgusting or… he didn’t even know what. And he watched in horror as Ardyn pulled his knees up and began to cry.

“No,” he whispered, pained, and scrambled over the blood towards him, curled his arms protectively around him. He pressed his face into his blood soaked hair and thought of all the times he’d done that very same thing, all the happier times, and then he started to cry again, too, lifting one hand to gently run his fingers through the strands, all messy and caked together. “I know,” he muttered quietly, his voice a little strained. “I know. It’s all right, I don’t care about the mess. I don’t. Just… please.” He tried to bite back the sob building up in his throat but he just couldn’t. “I’ll never leave you alone again. I told you I would be here for you and I _wasn’t_. I’m so, so sorry, Ardyn, I’m sorry.”

\--

Cor scrambled over, and Ardyn _sobbed_ , tried to shove him away, almost hyperventilating. “No, no,” he tried to say, but it just came out garbled and incoherent, incomprehensible around his panting. “No, you _shouldn’t_ —” Cor did, Cor did anyways, wrapped his strong arms tight around Ardyn, tugged him close, pressed his nose into his hair. Tangled him up so there was nowhere to go. And started crying too. “No, please,” Ardyn tried to beg, pressing his fingers to Cor’s chest, “Don’t cry, please don’t. Please, Cor. Please.” He didn’t know what he was asking for. “It’s everywhere,” he was shaking in Cor’s hold, felt freezing cold. “I got blood e-everywhere.” All over the floor. All over everything, all over both of them. “I didn’t. Mean to, I’m sorry, Cor. I’m sorry, I just—”

And then when Cor apologised, like it was _his fault_ , Ardyn _wailed_ , his hands balled into fists in the other man’s shirt, shaking his head until it spun, and he was hyperventilating and dry heaving, nauseous and his head was throbbing and—

“It’s _not your fault!_ ” Ardyn shouted, his voice cracking. “You didn’t, don’t apologise. Don’t—this is my fault, I did this not. Not you, never you!”

\--

Ardyn kept trying to push him away but Cor refused to let him. He did try to stop crying though, and managed it somewhat, his sobs dying down to quiet panting, even if tears still welled at the corners of his eyes, but Ardyn was still shaking and hyperventilating, losing his mind.

“All right,” he got out, just to try to get him to stop shouting, screaming and crying. “I won’t, I won’t.” Ardyn’s fists balled into his shirt and Cor tried to coax him closer. “I know. It’s okay,” he said, trying his hardest to reassure them both. He took in a deep, shaking breath and let it out again. “It’s okay. I understand, it’s okay. We can clean up the blood. We will. Just please… please, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

\--

Cor pulled him closer and Ardyn just cried more, hot and ugly and awful and miserable, hiccoughing and choking on his in-breaths, shaking apart in the other man’s arms. He kept saying “I’m sorry,” like a mantra, like it meant something, like it could make a difference, like it could make up for everything he’d done and everything he was yet to do, for killing himself selfishly on Cor’s kitchen floor just to make it all _stop_ for a minute. “I can’t,” he cried, clinging to Cor like a lifeline, choking on his own spit again, hacking and then inhaling and then dry heaving all over again, a cold sweat working up his arms.

He knew he had to stop crying, knew he had to calm down, but every time he tried it set off again until Ardyn was hardly able to breathe, close to just passing out from lack of air, screaming through his tears at nearly the top of his lungs in Cor’s arms. Sometime, he’d managed to move enough, to wrap his arms around the other man’s neck, and Ardyn hung on for dear life, face buried in Cor’s shoulder.

He didn’t even know what he was pleading for, any more. If it was an apology or rest or for Cor to be _mad_ at him for doing this, or something else entirely he was too far-gone to name.

\--

Ardyn just cried more and more, and as much as Cor almost wanted to cry, too, seeing him like this, he held it in now. He’d let out enough tears, and he did his best to calm himself, so at least one of them was together. So at least one of them could think more clearly.

He didn’t say anything as Ardyn kept apologizing, clinging to him and coughing and heaving, mumbling desperately and trying to find some way to make it right. And Cor didn’t want to do anything but hold him. He kept him close, held him tight, ran one broad palm up and down his back. “Shh,” he whispered on occasion, trying to soothe him. “It’s all right, it’s all right.” But still Ardyn cried, screamed into his shoulder like he was miserable and dying, pleaded for… something.

“Just breathe,” he muttered. “And keep holding onto me, I’m not going anywhere.” What he really needed to do, maybe, was get him into the bath, get him clean, but he wasn’t going to do that until he was more calm. If he calmed down before he made himself pass out.

\--

Cor still wouldn’t get mad at him, and it was wrong. He should have been _furious_ , should have been _livid_ , should have demanded Ardyn clean it up. Instead, he just held onto Ardyn, tried to calm him down, and it felt like it was only making it worse. “Why can you not just be angry with me?” Ardyn sobbed, face mashed into Cor’s collar, nails scraping over the back of his shoulders, coughing again, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I killed myself and—ruined the kitchen and—you are supposed to be _mad at me_.”

\--

When Ardyn suddenly asked why he wasn’t angry, still sobbing and shaking against him, Cor pulled back in surprise and glanced at him, shocked. “Why would…” he started, but Ardyn seemed to think that he would or… should be mad at him for killing himself and getting blood everywhere. Was that what he was so upset about? Cor shook his head, pulled him closer.

“No,” he said, still thrown off by that line of thought. “Of course I’m not angry, why would I be angry? I’m _worried_ , Ardyn. You did this to yourself because you were in pain, so much pain you couldn’t bear it anymore, and I’m worried about you. I _love_ you. The only thing I’m remotely upset about is that you never told me how bad it was, that you didn’t text me or call me while I was gone. You know I would have come straight home if I knew you were suffering this much.”

\--

Cor pulled him closer, and Ardyn slid ungainly half into the other man’s lap and clung to him because alone he couldn’t keep going. “There’s no need to worry,” he mumbled, miserably, still choking on his fierce tears, wiping snot on Cor’s coat as he tried to wrest his control back. “None of it can stick anyway.” He couldn’t die and it hardly hurt any more; what did it really matter?

He sighed, wet and unhappy, and leaned into Cor, let the other man take his weight completely, melted into his hold and just settled in to lay there, sprawled and damp and unhappy. “It doesn’t matter,” Ardyn murmured, “You couldn’t have done anything anyway even had you been here. I just.” He paused, wet his lips. “You have so much else on your plate that you didn’t need to be afraid for me on top. Of all that.”

\--

Ardyn finally just crawled into his lap and Cor held him and rubbed his back as the other man sprawled in his arms. “Ardyn,” he sighed as the other man tried to tell him it didn’t matter. Because he couldn’t die, because his body just healed anyway. Cor shook his head, tangled his fingers up into Ardyn’s blood-soaked hair.

“It _does_ matter,” he said. “Even if I couldn’t have done anything, at least I would have known, at least I could have tried. You,” He pressed his cheek against the side of the other man’s head, closed his eyes, “You’re always my top priority. It doesn’t matter what else is on my plate. You’re what’s most important. Of course I’m going to be worried about you. Of course I want to know if you’re suffering, even if I can’t help you. I care about you more than anything.”

\--

Ardyn made a wet, overwhelmed noise, closed his eyes. “Cor,” he finally managed in a whisper, fingers curled in the other man’s shirt. “I don’t deserve this,” he wheezed, pained. “You. That. This. Any of this. You’re too good a man for me, Cor.” He was, and this proved it, defined it, made it real. Cor had trusted Ardyn to take care of himself but all he’d done was make a terrible mess of things.

The kitchen floor. Himself.

Them.

It was silent for a long time, as Ardyn got his composure back, still crying, still filthy, still sticky and tacky. Finally, though, he let out a shaking breath. “I just want this to be over,” he admitted, words trembling against his tongue and his throat. “I hate saying it because you love me so, and all I want to do is leave you.” It was awful. It was why they should never have done this in the first place, but he wouldn’t have _un_ done it for the world. “I just want to rest, Cor. I just want to wake up and for it to be over already.” Or, ideally, to never wake up again. Just darkness, and quiet, forever.

\--

Ardyn made a quiet, wet, heartbreaking sound and Cor pulled him closer, as close as he could. He wasn’t surprised that Ardyn felt that way, that he wasn’t good enough for him, considering the things he’d done, what people thought of him, what he thought of _himself_. Cor just shook his head. He’d never cared about any of that. He couldn’t think of what to say, though. Trying to convince Ardyn that he _was_ good enough, that being in pain and doing terrible things because he had a head full of daemons didn’t make him undeserving of love, was a pointless endeavor.

So, he just held him, and let Ardyn recompose himself. He was still crying but not nearly as much. They were just quiet sobs now, nothing near the screeching cries he’d been letting out before. He was settling down, it was good.

At last, when he spoke, Cor let out a slow, shaky breath. “No,” he said quietly, after a moment. “It’s not awful of you to say that. I knew what I was getting into. I’ve always known how this would all end. And I want that rest for you, more than anything. I hate watching you suffer like this.” He sighed, pressed his face into the other man’s messy hair. “I love you, yes, I do. A part of me is… selfish, and wishes there was a way to heal you, that you could be mortal again and stay with me. But I know this is the only way. If I could make it come sooner, for you, I would.”

\--

Ardyn pulled back and away from Cor. He knew what he had to look like, in the too-harsh kitchen lights, his hair matted with black blood, his ugly face all visible in the light without his glamour, ichor leaking from his eyes and his ruined mouth, his lashes stuck together with grey tears. Ardyn couldn’t think of anything to say; could not find words that felt right on his tongue. “It is awful,” he murmured at last, thumb stroking over one of Cor’s high cheekbones, through the stubble of his beard. “It is awful for me to say that, for me to wish for Noctis to die, for _me_ to die. You don’t have to lie about it.” It was terrible and unfair and there was _nothing any of them could do about it_. Nothing at all.

Between a rock and a hard place, and the only way forward was over the edge and into the abyss.

He let out a slow breath, closed his eyes, and leaned forward to press his face into Cor’s shoulder, shuddered with one last sob. “I wish this was easier,” he let the words vanish into Cor’s blood-wet skin. “I wish there was anything anyone could do, that you wouldn’t have to live through this.”

\--

Ardyn pulled back to look at him, his hair a mess, with black streaked through it, dark tear streaks down his face, leaking from his eyes and mouth. He was a disaster, and Cor just stared at him and couldn’t have been more in love if he’d tried. Ardyn was right, he supposed. It was awful. “But,” he said quietly, “you wanting to be free of your suffering. That isn’t awful at all.” The rest of it… was terrible, yes. But there was no fixing it, or changing it. The Astrals had decided this, put this into motion. It was what it was.

He cupped Ardyn’s cheek gently as the other man touched his face. Then Ardyn leaned into him again, pressing his face back into his shoulder and Cor sighed, curled his fingers back into his hair. “I wish that, too,” he muttered. “I wish I could destroy every daemon inside you. Wish I could bring the dawn without Noctis having to die. More than anything I… wish I didn’t have to lose you.” He almost sobbed again, but held it back. “But all I can do is… make it easier for you. Let me do that, at least, as much as I can. Please.”

\--

“You’re too forgiving, Marshal,” Ardyn mumbled, but he couldn’t bring himself to make it anything other than gentle. Not right now, not here. He just let the other man hold him, fingers tangled in his hair, and just held Cor close and tight in return, fingers gentling against the side of his neck, over his hammering sweat-damp pulse. “Apologies from me would mean nothing.” Ardyn closed his eyes, laughed, hollow. “I was dead long before you met me. A hell of a ghost to be forced to share your home with.”

It was no time for humour, but he had to find something. Ardyn shut his eyes. “Help me to bed?”

\--

Cor smiled a little when Ardyn told him he was too forgiving. He was. But he didn’t care. He held him, closed his eyes and kept him close. As terrible as his humour was, it was a sign that he was feeling more himself. A good sign. He even tried to laugh, and Cor just hummed his quiet acknowledgement.

“Bed?” he asked quietly, pressing his nose to Ardyn’s ear and smiling more. “No, no, not like this. We’re both a mess. We need to get out of these clothes and shower first. Then we can go to bed. I’ll help you.” Holding Ardyn as close as he could, he started to stand carefully, leaning against the counter for support and helping Ardyn up, too. “You can walk, can’t you? Or would you rather I carry you? I don’t mind.”

\--

Cor was smiling against his ear, and Ardyn found himself huffing “What?” in confusion at the other man’s amusement. What was there to find funny, to smile at, here? Still, Cor stood, Ardyn clinging to his neck. He was weak, and exhausted—he hadn’t been dead for that long in centuries, and resetting the clock wasn’t as easy as just turning the hands back. His legs could barely take his weight.

“I can,” Ardyn admitted, still shaky from his crying jag, draped loosely over Cor’s shoulder, wet and miserable, “But I want you to carry me.”

\--

Ardyn seemed a little shaky but he could stand well enough with support. He still leaned on Cor, though draped over him. He wasn’t surprised at all that Ardyn asked him to carry him. He wanted to, anyway.

Turning towards him, he scooped the other man up under his legs, letting Ardyn hold onto him as he held him, and left the kitchen behind. The rest of the apartment looked perfectly normal, at least. When they reached the bathroom, he set him down gently on the lid of the toilet, and started to help him out of his blood-caked clothes.

\--

Ardyn made a pleased little noise when Cor picked him up and held tightly to the other man’s shoulders. When they got to the bathroom, Ardyn just tried (and failed) to get his ruined clothes off under Cor’s hands, and gave up halfway through, let the other man finish it. They showered together, Ardyn boneless in Cor’s arms, face pressed into his shoulder, boneless and miserable.

He didn’t even realise when they were done until he was in bed, wrapped in Cor’s towel, the other man’s scent cocooning him, naked but for that. He listened, distantly, to the sounds of Cor trying to clean up some of the mess he’d made in the kitchen. They would have to bleach it, he was almost certain—bleach, soak. There would probably be black stains there forever in some places.

When Cor finally gave up and came back, Ardyn had fallen asleep.

\--

He got their clothes off, cleaned them both. Ardyn was a mess and exhausted, so Cor didn’t mind doing most of the work. And when he’d worked the blood off their skin and out of their hair, and cleaned up Ardyn’s face and around his wound, he bundled him up in his towel and carried him to bed.

He did the best he could on the kitchen, got out some of it, but it needed bleach, and a more thorough cleaning, in the morning, when he wasn’t already tired from traveling and coming back to… that.

He cooked himself something quickly and ate, and when he went back to bed, was surprised to find Ardyn, apparently, asleep. He’d dropped off quickly, but he supposed being dead wasn’t nearly as restful as real sleep, and he’d had to heal himself after all of that.

Cor tucked himself around him, let him stay wrapped up in his towel, and pulled him close, turned out the light, and slipped into an exhausted, uneasy sleep, one arm draped protectively around him.

\--

The following few days passed in a sort of haze. Ardyn’s body, forced into something it shouldn’t have done, rebelled. He spent those few days violently ill, in a haze, running a fever off and on. Quelling the daemons in his mind, that oozed out his mouth and nose and eyes, that dripped in ichor from every orifice, that screamed and clamoured in the back of his head, took all his energy and willpower, both of which were already in low supply. They did not want to go back to that darkness. They wanted to be _heard_ to _speak_ to _demand_.

Finally, though, after three full days of that nonsense, Ardyn stumbled out of bed, angrily brushed his teeth to get the caked-on taste of daemon slime off of them, combed his hair, forced his face into a semblance of something human, and put on a pair of Cor’s sweatpants, a shirt, and three different too-large cardigans, the sleeves hanging down and over his hands. He went over to join Cor on the couch, flopped into his lap, his legs akimbo, and pressed his face into the slope of the other man’s neck where it met his shoulder, sighed.

He ached, yes, and his head was still throbbing, but at least the screaming had stopped. For now.

\--

Cor did not leave Ardyn alone for very long after that. He stayed in bed near him, or at least close by, somewhere in the apartment. Ardyn was fighting hard against the daemons, he could tell, but there was little he could do but keep an eye on him and clean his face every so often to keep from staining the sheets too much. It was in the other man’s hands now, and Cor was only going to be able to give him silent support and the affection he’d need when he was back to himself.

His efforts at cleaning the kitchen were still only somewhat successful, and though he didn’t want anyone else in the apartment, he did ask Monica to come by with some bleach. She did, and caught just a glimpse of the black splatters across the cupboards over his shoulder when she peered in. Cor had known she might, and that there was only one way to explain this. He had to tell her something as close to the truth as he could manage. He told her Altum had the Starscourge—and he could see the pity in her eyes as she told him how sorry she was, and handed him the bleach, and agreed to leave them alone unless they needed anything.

Some of the staining would never go away, but he did get the kitchen looking much better after that. He had a long phone call with Iris, asking her to, more or less, take over his position among the hunters, because with Altum as sick as he was, he wouldn’t be going out for more than a few hours anymore. And short term, he’d be staying in until the other man was feeling at least a little bit better. Iris’s training was long complete. He had faith that she could do it.

The word got around quickly, he didn’t even have to ask everyone to know that much, and they all left him a respectful amount of space. They’d known Altum was sick, but being sick with any typical illness and having the Starscourge were two completely different things, and it seemed like no one really knew how to react. Monica worried it was contagious. He assured her it was not. Or at least, this particular strain wasn’t.

After a few days, while Ardyn was asleep, Cor was stretched out on the couch, reading one of the books he’d been given for his birthday, when he heard quiet footsteps and thumping in the bedroom as Ardyn moved about. Shortly after that, he looked up as Ardyn emerged from the bedroom, bundled up in giant cardigans and sweat pants, and came over to flop into his lap.

Cor wrapped one arm around him, pulled him close, and pressed his face into his hair. “There you are,” he muttered, set his book aside, and briefly checked his forehead for a fever. He seemed normal enough, though, so Cor just held him. He actually looked a little more himself, his glamour back in place, his amber eyes clear. “Feeling a little better?”

\--

Cor immediately hid in Ardyn’s hair, like he could be safe there. Ardyn sighed. “No,” he replied, honestly. He’d heard other people come and go from the apartment, and half-wondered what Cor had told them about what had happened. If he’d told them anything at all. “We need to talk.” Like it wasn’t abundantly obvious to both of them that they had to talk. Of _course_ they had to talk, Ardyn had killed himself in Cor’s kitchen.

\--

Cor slid his hand up under all of Ardyn’s layers to rest his palm against the small of his back, rubbing soothingly at his skin. “Yeah,” he muttered and let out a slow breath. “You’re right. We do.” He was glad they’d waited, though, and not tried to talk about it when Ardyn had just come back to life and Cor was somewhere in between fits of tears and still in shock from the sight he’d returned to.

“I just want to know,” he began slowly, staring over Ardyn’s shoulder at their living room. “How bad it really is. You’ve been hiding it from me, and I don’t even know… I don’t know _anything_.” He didn’t. He knew that much. He’d picked up on Ardyn getting worse, being a little bit off now and then, but the man was a masterful liar. Only now was he starting to realize just how bad it _really_ was, and only because it was becoming impossible for Ardyn to hide it any longer.

\--

When Cor asked him point-blank how bad it was, Ardyn’s gut reaction was to lie. Spout off something that would cover his tracks. Hide it. Play it down, tell the other man it had just been fine up until that moment. _It won’t happen again,_ was the lie. _It was an accident_.

He knew he shouldn’t lie. But it was still hard. _It was for Cor’s own good, to lie_ , said the daemons. Just let him find something happy. Let him not be afraid. But, if the daemons were telling him to do it, it was a point of contention to refuse.

“I’ve stopped sleeping,” Ardyn murmured, voice muffled in Cor’s shoulder. “I can’t eat, even if I try, or drink, either. I’ve been vomiting bile since...before your birthday.” He shuddered, sighed. “The blackouts have not been getting worse, but it has been only a matter of time.”

\--

He thought Ardyn might lie, despite how straightforward the question had been. He so often did, and though Cor had gotten much better at reading him, he still couldn’t always. This time, though, he was paying attention, and he almost warned the other man not to, but when Ardyn spoke it was, surprisingly, quiet, and honest.

Cor relaxed. He stayed quiet, not knowing what to say, just pulled Ardyn closer. “There’s nothing I can do, is there?”

\--

Cor sat there, wordless, taking it in, and Ardyn gave a hollow laugh in response to the other man’s final, tired words. “No. There isn’t. I’m afraid that even palliative care is beyond my grasp at this point. I know that…for your sake, suicide, assisted or otherwise, is not anything that will improve our situation. All that you can do is keep me from being a danger to others. Or myself, if you feel so inclined.”

\--

Cor let out a slow breath. “I see.” Although, he’d known that would be the answer. Of course there was nothing he could do. He’d always known that. Still, he wanted to be there, as much as he could. At least Ardyn didn’t seem too keen on killing himself again. Cor had already intended to keep an eye on him for the sake of keeping him from harming himself or others, but he nodded anyway. It was a relief, to know that Ardyn didn’t want Cor to… do that to him. He didn’t think he could, even if Ardyn asked.

“I will,” he promised quietly. “But, something must have driven you to do that when I wasn’t here. Was it the pain?”

\--

Ardyn hesitated. The worst part of this all was how much he hated to tell Cor of what it was like, what he was living with. He could not refuse, though. Not without hurting him more.anting to suffer in unspoken silence was not something he could do. Not for Cor’s sake.

“I…” a pause. “They speak to me. The daemons. Whispers, usually, but it has been louder of late. They want me to do things, things I hate to do. They demand my attention, insist upon their desires being heard. It’s fine when it’s just telling me to get up, to leave. But when it becomes killing you, killing _others_ that it is just...too much.”

\--

Cor glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. That was… something Ardyn had never told him. The daemons _spoke_ to him? He shuddered. That, he did not like the sound of. And how long would it be, until Ardyn really couldn’t control them any more? And what would they do then?

He couldn’t fault Ardyn for wanting to escape something like that.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s…” He frowned. Even more reason for him to stay home with Ardyn as much as possible. Maybe his presence would somehow make it easier. It seemed to, anyway. And he trusted Ardyn not to do anything too extreme as long as he was there. He’d just make sure to confiscate anything in the apartment he could potentially use to harm himself or someone else. They’d play it safe, as much as they could.

“I told Monica,” he said after a moment, “that you have the… Starscourge. It felt like the best decision. And I’m not taking any jobs away from the city anymore. If I leave, I won’t be gone for more than a few hours. Iris is more than capable of taking my place.”

\--

Cor didn’t know what to say, and Ardyn did not—could not—fault him. What _was_ there to say to that? But when Cor admitted what he’d said, Ardyn sat up, pushed his hair off his face. “Cor, _no!_ ” They’d think he was contagious—Cor could be ostracised. Made a leper. “You can’t give up your life to me. For me. Because of me.” And then, even though Cor had never done any such thing, Ardyn took his face, stared into his eyes, and irrationally murmured, “You _promised_.”

\--

Ardyn sat up, looked at him, upset and exhausted. Cor put his hands calmly over Ardyn’s, tangled their fingers and stared back at him. “Ardyn,” he said, firm and straightforward. “I never promised that. Even so, this is my choice, and one that I’ve already made. I want Iris to spread her wings on her own without me there, anyway, and I can support her from here. You don’t have much time left, and I want to be here for you, for however many weeks or months or years you have left. _Let me_.”

\--

He hesitated, holding Cor’s sharp face in his hands, watching his eyes. They were still just as bright as they had been eight years before. Sadder, yes. Quieter, perhaps. But just as bright. Ardyn shook for a long moment, unsure of what to do. He desperately—

“I don’t want this,” he said at last, voice shaking. “I never wanted any of this, and least of all for this to be how it all ends, how _we_ end.” But he couldn’t be alone any more; Ardyn knew that much. Not after what had happened. Unspoken was the _but_ , the fact that this was. How it had to be.

\--

Ardyn stared at him and Cor stared back, unwavering, into the other man’s tired eyes. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know, you’d rather I remember everything as it has been up until now. But I knew what I was getting into and I’ve always sworn I would stay by your side until the very end. No matter what happens, I don’t regret being with you, and I never will.”

He took his hand gently, kissed his fingers. “I’m your Lionheart, always.”

\--

He was done crying. It had never been a good look on him anyway; too soft and too overwhelming. Ardyn never liked being that vulnerable, not around anyone; and certainly not around Cor.

But in the face of that, Ardyn could not think of anything to say. Instead, he just leaned forward, kissed the other man’s forehead, chaste and slow. “Then,” Ardyn murmured, “I shall endeavor, Marshal, to be a King you find worthy to follow until the very end, with however long that may be.”

\--

Ardyn kissed his forehead, and Cor closed his eyes, relaxing under his touch. He smiled a little, just a little and whispered, “I know you will.”


	19. just a king and a rusty throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cor,” Ardyn murmured more fondly than he would have admitted, pulled back slightly, cupped the other man’s knifelike cheekbones, “Are you really, in all seriousness, suggesting that you _fuck me_ until the eldritch horrors living inside my body shut up because I’m so overstimulated I can’t think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [panic! at the disco's "always"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoFylcrxdM0)
> 
>  
> 
> _it was always you_  
>  _falling for me_  
>  _now there's always time_  
>  _calling for me_  
>  _i'm the light blinking at the end of the road_  
>  _blink back, to let me know_

Cor watched him carefully over the coming weeks. He rarely left the apartment for long, only to restock on food, or meet with someone, or every so often to help with patrols and hunts on the outskirts of Lestallum. But he never left for longer than a single afternoon, and he always kept in close touch with Ardyn when he did. Even if Ardyn said he wouldn’t, he didn’t want that day in the kitchen to be repeated.

And when he was home, he knew it wasn’t a good idea to just sit around. Ardyn needed distractions, something to _do_ , something to keep the daemons quiet, so Cor did everything he could.

It started with simple things: Cor reading to him from his books, asking Ardyn to teach him a little Old Lucian. Sometimes they listened to the radio together, or watched television. Even though not a lot aired anymore, he had old tapes with recordings of shows from his childhood, and they would watch them all together, curled up on the couch.

Sometimes, more often than he liked, and with increasing frequency, Ardyn blacked out. It was only ever for a few minutes at a time, but he would fall quiet and stare straight ahead and, shortly after, shake his head and seem dazed and confused, ask Cor questions about how that character had gotten there, what he’d missed in the few minutes he’d been absent. He wasn’t sure if Ardyn ever even fully noticed that he was losing those minutes. It was… worrying.

After a few weeks, when Ardyn seemed like he was feeling more like himself, they left the apartment together, going just as far as the garage near their apartment where Cor parked his motorcycle, and Cor spent a little while teaching him how to drive it. It was different than a car, though not terribly so, but he got the impression Ardyn wasn’t exactly the best driver either way. It was nice, to settle in behind him and show him where everything was. It reminded him of that evening that felt like a thousand years ago, when Ardyn had ridden in front of him on his motorcycle, out of Lestallum into light the setting sun.

But then, too, Ardyn kept forgetting, losing minutes here and there, and Cor didn’t trust him enough to drive on his own just yet. Maybe, in time, if he had a better day. There wasn’t any harm in taking it slow.

A few days after that, Ardyn was having a particularly bad day, not so much in terms of the daemons taking him over, he was just… distant, frustrated, tired. Even curled up in bed together, with Cor reading to him, he seemed a little out of it, but not entirely like he was blacking out. It could be hard to tell, though.

“Ardyn,” he muttered quietly, pausing with the book on his lap to stroke the other man’s hair. “How are you?”

\--

It was sweet of Cor, that he spent all their time now trying to distract Ardyn from the quagmire of his own mind. Gentling him with laughter and soft touches, distracting him with television and driving lessons and finding literally any other outlet for him to put energy into. It was working—Ardyn found himself more focused than he had been in weeks, and with his energy turned to useful things, the daemons were quieter.

But it wasn’t working perfectly.

He could tell, when he lost time, when it was long enough. Seconds he rarely noticed, minutes almost less, but he did notice simply because of how off Cor would seem when he came back. They still had not taken his body for anything again—just sat there, puzzled over their setting—before he’d wrestled control back.

It was tremendously frustrating, to the point that he was trying to force himself to push them back all the time, rather than just existing. But it was simply making his headaches worse, making his everything worse, and Cor could always tell. One night, while Cor was reading to him, he sighed as the other man asked him point-blank how he was feeling, and Ardyn sighed, pressed his hands to his forehead. “Frustrated,” he groused, head pressed into Cor’s fingers in his hair. “I keep fading out and refusing and I’ve missed the last five pages _utterly_. I haven’t the slightest clue what’s been happening, you may as well just have to recap the entire book for me at this rate.”

\--

Ardyn leaned into his touch. He’d been much more honest about how he felt lately, likely for a number of reasons, and Cor was grateful for it. It made everything much easier. He hated to have to pry things out of him.

At Ardyn’s frustrated words, Cor frowned and closed the book, setting it aside on his nightstand. “Well,” he said quietly, “we need to do something else, then.” If that wasn’t working, there was no point in trying. If the daemons were pushing too hard, he wasn’t going to be able to focus on it. It was getting late, so they couldn’t very well go for a walk, and he was always reluctant to leave the apartment when Ardyn was feeling particularly bad anyway. And if books didn’t help, radio and television certainly wouldn’t either.

Tangling his fingers more into his hair, he rolled over him and kissed his lips, gently. “I’ll read those pages to you again later, when you can focus more easily. It doesn’t matter.” He kissed the edge of his jaw and pressed his nose up below his ear. “Anyway, I think I have an idea.”

\--

Ardyn sighed, one hand pressed dramatically to his forehead, his eyes closed. “Marshal, I am afraid that my current quality as a captive audience is really rather lacking; you shall have to forgive me.” Cor, as per usual, didn’t respond in any sort of constructive way, and instead rolled over, cupped Ardyn’s face, tangled fingers in his hair, and leaned forward to kiss him.

Ardyn opened his eyes and frowned at the other man. “Marshal,” he said, after a moment, “Cor.” Cor was cupping his face, nose digging into the soft spot at the side of his jaw just under his ear, “If I’m in no fit shape to listen to you read to me, _why_ are you getting handsy?”

\--

Ardyn frowned at him, complaining gently, but Cor just pulled him closer. He called him by his title, and then by his name, and Cor smiled, curling towards him. “I wasn’t thinking of reading to you right now,” he muttered against the soft skin of his neck. “You clearly need a better distraction than that. Something to take your mind off the daemons as much as possible. And it’s been a while since we had sex.” They hadn’t, since his birthday. It had been… too much. “I haven’t wanted to, when you weren’t feeling well, but I was thinking about what we did on my birthday… you were so blissfully out of it, then, I want to give that to you again.”

\--

Ardyn huffed. “No, _really_?” he rejoined, one arm looped loosely around the other man’s shoulders. “I could never have guessed, given how you’re talking into my neck and your hands are inches from being under my shirt. You’re like a window, Marshal. Perfectly see-through.” He stilled his words with a choke and laughed, absolutely stupefied by the entire situation. “Cor,” Ardyn murmured more fondly than he would have admitted, pulled back slightly, cupped the other man’s knifelike cheekbones, “Are you really, in all seriousness, suggesting that you _fuck me_ until the eldritch horrors living inside my body shut up because I’m so overstimulated I can’t think?” He paused, and added, a little chagrined, “Not that I don’t doubt your plan would work, mind you, it’s merely a little absurd.”

\--

Cor flushed when Ardyn said he could see right through him, and then he did slip his fingers up under his shirt, pressing his palm against the other man’s warm skin.

Ardyn’s hands cupped his cheeks and Cor met his eyes, laughed a little under his breath because it _did_ sound ridiculous when he put it like that, but… “Yes,” he said. “That was… exactly what I was suggesting.” It was the kind of ridiculous that would probably work, though. If Ardyn couldn’t think, the daemons couldn’t bother him. That was why he’d… killed himself like that, after all. But this was a far superior option.

“Well,” he said quietly, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “There’s really only one way to find out, if you’re willing to try.”

\--

Cor had the decency to look a little bit embarrassed when Ardyn called him out, and he pressed the back of one hand to his forehead, sighed. “Honestly,” Ardyn grumbled, pulling his hand back when Cor bumped their faces together, lips pursed. “But, to be frank, I cannot think of a reason to say no. So, my dear Marshal, if you insist.”

\--

Cor smiled at him, curled his hands around Ardyn’s thin waist and settled between his legs. “I insist,” he muttered, and leaned down to kiss him long and slow and deep as he slid Ardyn’s pants down over his hips and the curve of his ass.

“I have some ideas,” he said, shoving their faces together. “But if you have any requests, I’d be more than happy to do whatever you think will help the most.”

\--

Cor kissed him and tugged his trousers off, coaxing Ardyn’s hips up off of the mattress, and he kicked them the rest of the way down, using his good leg to nudge the pile of pants and boxers over the edge of the bed, spreading his thighs so that Cor could settle between them, nuzzling his face. “I can’t think that I have any preferences,” Ardyn murmured, fingers trailing over the other man’s shoulders, dragging up into his hairline. “You’ll just have to be careful, unless me limping extra for a week is what you’re going for. I’m a sight tighter than you’re used to.”

\--

Ardyn’s fingers touched his shoulder, gently, and Cor sighed, pulled his own shirt off over his head and pressed himself back against Ardyn, kissing the side of his neck, pushing his shirt up over his chest. “I’ll be careful,” he promised. “I know. Don’t worry.”

He bit gently at his throat, slid down his chest and licked at one nipple. “You’re so,” he muttered, looking up at him, fingers curled against his hips. “Quiet, lately.” He nuzzled his chest. He was never really _quiet_ but… maybe subdued was a better word. “I wish you’d talk to me more. Especially when something is bothering you.” He bit at that same nipple, teased it with his teeth and tongue, and kissed down along his ribs. He was always skinny, but he was losing more weight by the day. He worried, he worried so much. He didn’t like Ardyn being subdued and in pain, lost in the swirling cries of daemons in his head. He wanted him forward and loud and insistent and _himself_.

“Talk to me,” he said, as that worry surged up into the pit of his stomach, twisting and uncomfortable, and he kissed down to the arch of his hip, along his stomach to press his face to the base of his cock. “Talk to me about anything.”

\--

Ardyn gladly helped Cor pull his shirt off, and traced the powerful muscles of the other man’s upper back, softening now as his skin and fat shifted with age. He wondered, not for the first time, nor the last, what Cor had looked like at thirty, thirty-five—in the prime of his life. The way water and sweat must have highlighted the chiselling of his muscles; how tightly his shirts probably sat over the curves of his pecs.

A _crime_ that he missed it. A _fucking crime_. There had to be photos somewhere. He would steal them.

In the weeks since his lapse, they hadn’t had sex of any sort. At first, Cor had been too much of a mix of furious and worried, but since then they’d both been too hesitant, and Ardyn had been too out of it.

As Cor started to play with one of his nipples, Ardyn flopped boneless back onto the bedspread and sighed, dramatically, as Cor traced over his ribs. “And what, pray tell, should I tell you? You don’t want to hear me talk about how very deeply I’d like to die at every moment of the day. Should I talk instead about how very lovely I think your back is?” Cor was nuzzling the base of his cock, and from this angle, he could see the corded muscle perfectly. “Are there any photos of you from your thirties because I would _love_ to see what you looked like before you started to get older. Ideally, shirtless photos. Or wet. Or both.”

\--

“No,” he said softly, glancing up at Ardyn. “Not about dying. I know all of that. Something else.” Something to take his mind off wanting to die, he hoped. At least for a little while.

He smiled when Ardyn started complimenting his back instead, and leaned in to press his lips and tongue to the base of his cock, mouthing at his warm skin. “You’ve never told me that,” he mumbled, licking gently up the side. “I don’t think I have any of me shirtless… or wet… but I could look and see what I can find.” He didn’t have a lot of photos of himself from back then, from what he could remember. But he probably had a few, and Prompto used to have a huge photo collection, he must still have at least some of it.

“Tell me more.” He nudged his length with his nose, licked slowly at the underside. “What else? You can tell me anything.”

\--

“You’re a good looking man,” Ardyn mumbled into the back of one wrist, the other hand tangling in Cor’s hair, pulling him closer as the other man mouthed at the base of his cock. “You don’t need me to tell you just _how_ good. I think I got that across the first time we met and I let you choke me out against my car. Like a fine wine, Marshal Leonis improves with age.” He choked as Cor licked at the underside of his cock. He was grasping at straws; he didn’t really know _what_ to say. He’d been so tired, so out of it, lately. He wasn’t used to just running his mouth vaguely.

Well, that wasn’t true.

He wasn’t used to doing it _on command_. Normally, Ardyn could fill a room by talking. Not so much of late. “You know your name means lion hearted?”

\--

Ardyn’s long fingers tangled into his hair, dragging him closer, and Cor laughed quietly under his breath and continued to mouth slowly at his cock, feeling it get harder against his lips. He did so love the compliments, Ardyn hardly ever told him those things with words.

He smiled when Ardyn told him what his name meant. “Yes,” he said quietly, licking his way up to the head of his cock, and he took the base in hand as he dragged his tongue across the slit. “ _Your_ lion.” He grinned, looking up at him, then went back to slowly and methodically licking at every inch of his cock, from the head down. “Tell me more,” he urged again. “Tell me about Lucis, when you were King. Tell me what you remember. All these years, and I still barely know anything about your life.”

\--

Ardyn muffled a giggle. “ _My_ lion,” he agreed, sliding one knee over Cor’s shoulders to pin him down and closer. “My brave, brave lion.” Cor was licking his dick like it was a candy, and Ardyn huffed. It felt _good_ , but it wasn’t exactly going anywhere. “Talking about it isn’t exactly easy,” Ardyn mumbled, glad he didn’t have to look Cor in the eye as he said it. “Insomnia was a lot smaller, for one thing.” He gentled his fingers in the other man’s hair, skimmed the fingers of his other hand over his lower lip, stared at the ceiling as Cor continued to lick at his dick. “Are you going to go anywhere with that, Cor, or are you just going to pretend I’m candy? I _know_ I don’t taste that good.”

\--

Cor hummed in contentment when Ardyn agreed, called him his brave lion. He loved being his, more than anything else, and Ardyn’s fingers were wonderfully gentle in his hair as he spoke.

“I am going somewhere,” he said, eyeing him as he licked across the head again. “But… you have to talk to me if you want more.” He smiled, kissed the side. “Tell me what you want me to do. Demand it from me. And talk to me. Tell me about Insomnia. Were the people different? Tell me everything.” He parted his lips and took the head of his dick into his mouth to encourage him, letting it rest on his tongue, and closed his eyes partway as he sucked around it.

\--

“ _Cor,_ ” Ardyn growled, his patience wearing thin. This was stupid; if anything it was just aggravating him. “I _want_ you to properly suck my cock, that’s what I want.” Cor hadn’t even once closed his mouth around him, just hot licks and the feeling of his fingers, dry, around his base. Ardyn grunted, pressed his head into the pillows. “It was—I don’t know? Nobody wore trousers, for one thing. They were clothes for barbarians. No electricity, no running water, it took months to get anywhere, letters took _weeks_ —you know all of this!” He sat up abruptly, tugging sharply on the back of Cor’s neck, his heel digging into the bedspread. “You had a basic Lucian education. Why do I need to give you a lecture on Old Lucian history instead of you blowing me?”

\--

Ardyn ground out his name and Cor smiled around his cock. Good. This was what he wanted. He wanted Ardyn to be irritated with him, wanted him to yell, to complain, to fight back, _anything_ but sitting there in an emotionless puddle like he’d been doing for the past few weeks. He wanted him to be _himself_ , and they were getting there, and he was more than pleased.

When Ardyn tugged on the back of his neck, Cor looked at him, smiling still. “I did,” he said. “But I like hearing it from you. Tell me something else. Tell me about what you did. About being raised in the palace. And by all means, yell at me to suck your cock. I might actually give it to you.” He laughed under his breath, watching Ardyn as he leaned forward again and took the head of his cock in between his lips, then dipped down a little bit further. He brought his hand around, too, and slid one finger into the crack of his ass, tracing the tight muscle of his entrance.

\--

“Cor,” he replied instead, “This could very well be the last time we ever have sex, I could die tomorrow, and the last thing you’ll have done with me was spend a half an hour _not_ having sex with me. Instead you’re trying to get me to give you a history lesson rather than an orgasm and frankly, Marshal, I just do _not_ have the energy for this kind of nonsense. I’m going to die with blue balls because you couldn’t be assed to put in proper effort.” He was hardly even getting breathy, despite being hard as iron and Cor tracing his asshole with one broad fingertip. “You are a disgrace and I am ashamed that I know you.” He paused, and then added, “I didn’t grow up in the palace, anyway. I was the _first_ king, Cor. I grew up in a hovel, where most people grew up.”

\--

Cor listened, quietly, smiling around his cock. He liked Ardyn complaining. It was good. He’d missed it, more than he ever thought he would. It was just _wrong_ for Ardyn to not be mouthing off all the time. And he was wonderfully hard, too, from Cor teasing him for so long.

He licked up his length and pulled off again, still teasing his asshole, pressing against it gently with one finger, like he just might slip it inside eventually. “You _married_ me,” he reminded him, giving him a pointed look. “So tell me about how you became king.” He kissed his length, down to his balls, nosed at them gently, and pressed himself down against the blankets, pulled the cheeks of his ass apart with his fingers to get to his hole, and breathed against it. “Or, keep complaining. I like hearing that, too.”

\--

Ardyn sighed. “That argument will never hold up in a court of law. Where’s your documentation, Marshal?” It didn’t help him focus that Cor was fingering his hole and finally properly trying to blow him. “It was very boring,” Ardyn murmured, settling back, leaned on one elbow to watch Cor, “I just sort of healed people and then they named me King. I didn’t exactly go about conquering anything. I must have been...oh, twenty? Twenty-one?” He paused. “There are probably sculptures somewhere. You could always tell me apart from Izunia in them without paint because I was fatter.”

And then, abruptly, Cor grabbed the cheeks of his ass, hauled Ardyn forward against his mouth, and breathed a hot puff of air over his entrance. “Cor!” He yelped, a mixture of dissatisfied over the idea that the other man was just baiting him into bitching for the sole point of it, and also that he’d so quickly gone to trying to rim him again. “Gods, really?”

\--

Ardyn seemed more relaxed as he answered Cor’s questions, and he was opening up again, talking more like he used to as he watched Cor with his sharp eyes. Twenty-one… about the age men usually became kings, he supposed. He’d have to see if he could find any of those sculptures or paintings… there had to be plenty, he was right.

He did love Ardyn’s indignant gasp of his name as he sank lower, though, and he smiled and pressed his nose beneath his balls. “What?” he asked, challenging, and grinning far too much. “I like you like this. I _missed_ you.” He dragged his tongue over his entrance, sighed because he was going to have to take his time no matter what with how tight Ardyn was. “Would you rather I suck your cock and finger fuck you? I’ll do whatever you want if you tell me.”

\--

Cor pressed his nose to Ardyn’s perineum, and Ardyn made a hot, choked little noise as the other man tongued his entrance. “I just want _you_ ,” he murmured, more than a tad petulant, pulling on Cor’s hair. “I want you however you want me.” It was good, it was working, he wasn’t thinking and the pressure of the daemons behind his eyes was _mercifully_ quiet. “You’ll have to stretch me back out for your cock sometime, though.”

\--

Cor smiled and hummed, closed his eyes and licked at him more, circling his entrance with his tongue as Ardyn pulled on his hair. “Of course,” he rumbled, touched at the affection in the other man’s voice, enjoying the quiet sounds he made. Ardyn hadn’t seemed so alert, so relaxed, so _alive_ , since Cor’s birthday, so he was doing something right. “I’ll stretch you out. I want to do it nice and slow.” He nipped gently at the ring of muscle, licked at him more and then, just a little bit, pushed the tip of his tongue into him. He was extremely tight, but he’d expected that.

“Relax more,” he muttered, rubbing the inside of his thigh gently, spreading his palm over Ardyn’s skin where it was covered in soft red hair. “Keep talking to me. I want to hear your voice. Tell me about something else that you remember.”

\--

“Boring,” Ardyn shot back, but his voice cracked halfway through the word when Cor shoved his tongue inside him, right past the ring of his hole, and he _yelped_ , toes curling and thighs jumping. “Warn a man!” But he did as Cor asked, and relaxed, puddling against the sheets, closing his eyes. Tried to focus his scattered thoughts as best he could. “Have I told you about Aurora?” Of course he hadn’t; talking of her even now was painful. “I hatched her when I was...fourteen? Her dam had been killed protecting her eggs, Aurora’s was the only one not smashed. She was the littlest chocobo chick I’ve ever seen, she barely fit in my hands cupped together. But she could scream like a monster if she wanted something.”

\--

Ardyn was so surprised, so indignant, but Cor relished the sounds he made, the way he reacted, all of it such a far cry from how he’d been the past few weeks and so much of what he’d missed. He did relax when Cor asked, too, and he could feel him melting against the sheets, could feel the tension flow out of him, his muscles loosening, and he pressed his tongue in deeper, slowly, licked at his entrance and kept licking.

“You haven’t,” he admitted quietly when Ardyn started talking about Aurora, and he paused, kissing and nuzzling his skin instead. Ardyn’s chocobo… he’d never mentioned her before, and Cor smiled. “Tell me more about her,” he muttered, and kept licking at him, slowly, circling the rim and dipping his tongue in again to coax him open, bit by bit.

\--

Cor started rimming him properly, licking over the too-tight muscle, fucking it with his tongue, and Ardyn made another little choked, hot noise at the feeling. “I’m not telling you about my beloved murdered chocobo while you have your tongue in me,” he muttered. “It’s an insult to her memory and it’s the _opposite_ of arousing.” He felt frustrated and a little bottled up, like he wanted to roll Cor over and take what he wanted. “If you don’t do this properly, Marshal, I’m going to confiscate your privileges.”

\--

Cor sighed quietly, and paused to nudge at the inside of his thigh. “Sorry,” he muttered, kissing his skin gently. “I didn’t mean to dredge that up.” Another time, maybe. He did want to hear more about her, if she was that important to him. But not now.

Instead, he kissed his way back, ignoring Ardyn’s threat aside from a slight satisfied smile, and started licking gently at his entrance again, humming against his skin as he continued to slowly, slowly work him open with only his tongue.

\--

Cor apologised, and went back to what he had been doing, and Ardyn found himself facing a dilemma. He could continued to lay there, let Cor rim him and keep playing into his hands. Or he could finally do something about this mess. He’d been in misery for _far_ too long; it was boring and a waste of his time. He was tired of moping about and waiting for something to improve. He was tired of Cor treating him like superheated glass. It was silly. He’d never sat around and done nothing any other time in his life; why start now?

He was not going to mope about any more.

Ardyn rolled back to balance on his upper back and the backs of his arms, planted both his feet on Cor’s shoulders, and in one smooth motion promptly shoved the other man _hard_ , right off the end of the bed.

\--

When Ardyn fell silent, Cor slowed down a little. It was hard to tell if he just couldn’t think of anything to say at this point, or if he was planning on going through with that threat. Too much of Cor hoped that he was. The whole point of this, after all, _was_ to get Ardyn to stop thinking about the daemons and death and the end and the pain, and if he was on the verge of forcing control back from Cor, if he wanted it that much… it was like the Ardyn he remembered, and it was good and he _wanted_ it.

He felt Ardyn shift, then, and looked up at him just in time to feel the other man’s feet against his shoulders, and then Ardyn shoved him before he could even begin to prepare himself. He was launched bodily off the bed in a matter of seconds, catching himself on his hands as he hit the floor and grunted, more in surprise than anything. “Ardyn,” he wheezed as he rolled onto his back. “Was that really necessary?”

\--

Cor hit the floor with a thump, and grunted as he rolled onto his back, stared up at Ardyn, who had stretched up to the side table to get the lube, popped the bottle open and already slicked two fingers, spread his thighs, cocked his good leg up to his chest as he reached down and unceremoniously shoved both fingers up to the bottom knuckle inside his already wet and grasping hole, gasping at the friction. “Yes,” he replied, staring down at Cor, his eyes wide and hot and dark, his pupils dilated too-large. “I did. You’re going to stay down there, and you’re going to watch.” He stretched his bad leg out, toes poised and pointed to splay over Cor’s chest. “And if you move or try to touch yourself _or_ me, you can just take care of that,” Ardyn nodded at Cor’s dripping cock, “yourself tonight.”

\--

Ardyn got the lube, and Cor sucked in a breath when he heard the other man pop the cap, watching from below as he slicked his fingers, drew his leg up and pressed them inside himself. “Ardyn,” he gasped, half sitting up again, as he met his eyes, his mouth suddenly horribly dry.

The other man’s toes pressed against his chest and Cor laid back down, staring up at him in wide-eyed desire, all of him suddenly thrumming with need because this was the Ardyn he’d missed, the one he wanted desperately, and he was hot and hard as steel in his trousers.

There was always something, something incredibly arousing about being beneath him and looking up at him, especially when Ardyn’s eyes were wide and dark and looking at him like he wanted to devour him. Cor was panting a little, and as Ardyn told him exactly what he wanted him to do he felt his cock throb, then nodded. “Yes,” he gasped when he could find the words. “Yes… Your Majesty.”

\--

Cor was staring at him like Ardyn was something totally otherworldly, something he’d never seen before, as Ardyn scissored his fingers inside himself, played his moans up into little, ragged needy gasps. He was too tight for a third, but he was already pulling hard on his rim until his fingertips popped out sloppy and slick, dripping with lube.

When Cor used his title, Ardyn flushed, red from his cheeks down to his tits, and smiled like a cat who’d gotten the canary. “Put the shoe on the other foot, Marshal,” he purred, dragging his toenails over Cor’s chest hair, around the curve of one areola, fingerfucking himself to get looser. “Tell me what you want. In detail. Maybe I’ll let you have it.”

\--

Cor watched as Ardyn spread his fingers inside himself, his cock throbbing helplessly at every gasp, every moan. He curled his hands into fists on the floor, digging his fingernails into his palms as he stared up at him, and brought up his knees a little.

He let out a shaky breath as Ardyn spoke and flushed deeply. Ardyn was flushed too, all across his face and chest, and Cor wanted him closer desperately.

“I…” he began, the words all caught in his throat as he watched him, as Ardyn scraped his toes across his chest. Everything in his head before had just. Fallen out.

“I want you to. Pull my trousers down, and sit on my cock,” he started after a moment. “Ride me and make me watch. And just… tell me how good it is.” He flushed more as he spoke, his cock straining against the front of his pants and he looked up at Ardyn hopefully. “Please.”

\--

Cor spread his knees, hitching them just a little towards his chest, and there was a clear look of _want_ and _need_ and _desire_ on his face that Ardyn felt good about putting there. He stumbled over his words, voice thick and choked, and Ardyn arched one eyebrow as he (finally, finally) twisted a third finger in, hissing between his teeth at how _good_ the stretch was. “Then get your trousers off, Marshal,” Ardyn purred, canines peeking between his lips. “And don’t touch yourself.” He was impatient, but he could wait a moment longer, fingerfucking himself just to get the best out of it when he finally gave Cor what he wanted.

\--

Cor let out a quiet, needy breath as he watched Ardyn press another finger up inside himself, listening to the sounds he made. He must have been so much more open and wet and Cor _wanted_ him. It had been so long, he’d missed him, missed the way he felt.

When Ardyn told him to take his trousers off, he didn’t hesitate. He got his fingers on his fly, opened it without touching himself at all, and pushed them down around his hips, kicked them off to the floor so he was naked aside from his socks, his cock hard and aching in the open air. “Please,” he choked out.

\--

Cor practically ripped his pants off, heels pressed hard into the floor, his cock standing proud and hard from the dark curls at the base, red and drippy at the tip, and Ardyn licked his lips, staring at it hungrily. “All right,” he murmured, finally pulling his fingers from his ass as he slid off of the edge of the bed, pressed his clean hand to the centre of Cor’s chest, slicked him once, and sank down with a low moan onto the other man’s dick, seated with his back to Cor’s face, biting his lower lip, his head hung loose on his shoulders and his thick hair billowing around his face. “Oh,” Ardyn murmured, “That _is_ good.” It was like that first time all over again but _better_ because he could have Cor however he wanted, and they were both so, so slick, Cor dripping hot dribbly pre and Ardyn wet with lube. He shifted, finding a good angle for his bad hip, and bounced just once, rolling his ass back and forth until he found the perfect spot that Cor’s cock was pressed flush and hot along his prostate, that his cockhead would spear it every time Ardyn lifted up, and bounced once to test it.

Ardyn yelped in pleasure.

He’d found it.

\--

Ardyn stared pointedly at his cock, like he wanted to devour him, and Cor felt himself flush even harder. He was leaking terribly, and when Ardyn licked his lips he felt his cock throb again and let out a shuddering sigh.

Finally, Ardyn slid off the bed, touched his cock with his warm, slick fingers, and Cor moaned at the feeling. And then he felt his cock pressing against the other man’s entrance, slipping inside, and he groaned louder as Ardyn sank down onto him. He was so tight and so, so hot, and it really was like the first time they’d fucked all over again except now Ardyn had Cor completely at his mercy and he _loved_ it. Loved it, except that it was near impossible to restrain himself from sitting forward, curling around Ardyn’s back and holding him as he fucked up into him. He wanted to kiss his neck, wrap his fingers around his throat, feel how hot his skin was, but he didn’t.

He just stayed right where he was and muttered a quiet, “ _Yes_ ,” in agreement, moaning as Ardyn shifted on him, bouncing on his cock and grinding his ass down onto it until he found the perfect angle.

Cor felt his eyes roll back in pleasure a little as Ardyn moved again, yelped in a way that made his chest and stomach tight, and he arched his hips up, to try to get deeper into him.

\--

When Cor finally settled in him up to the hilt the other man groaned ragged and raw and helplessly needy, and Ardyn shuddered, a shiver going up his spine at the noise. He almost wanted to let Cor grab his throat, choke him like this, cut off all his air until he couldn’t think about anything but his cock and his hands and the oxygen he wasn’t breathing. Cor was already arching up into him, trying to get leverage with his heels, and Ardyn let him have that much, let him set his rhythm awry, to fuck him off-target. “You like that, Marshal?” Ardyn asked, smiling, as he finally started to find the speed that was good for him, riding Cor’s cock like he would do squats, slow and lazy and _patient_ , ever so patient. “Six know your cock has been nearly falling out of me lately. I bet you like being nestled up all tight again, don’t you?”

\--

Cor let out a shaky, breathy moan as he laid on the floor, head pressed back against the rug, arching his hips up as he gasped quietly for breath. “Yes,” he groaned when Ardyn asked him. “Oh, yes, I do.” Ardyn had been so loose lately, so loose he practically got his entire hand in him alongside his cock on his birthday, but now Ardyn was wonderfully tight again, tight and hot and so, so good.

Even though he wanted to hold him closer, he loved Ardyn taking control, telling him what to do, forcing him to stay down while he rode his cock however he wanted. And he did, sliding up and down, slow and lazy and not at all like Cor would have fucked him if he’d been able to, but it was better for it, and he moaned helplessly, rocking his hips up each time Ardyn slid down again, to catch him.

“I do,” he muttered again, curling his fingers against the floor. He gasped, arched into him again.

“You feel so good around me, you’re so hot and tight. Gods, Ardyn.” This was what he’d wanted. _This_. Ardyn, back to himself, just the way it should be.

\--

Cor had fucked him so open of late that Ardyn had gotten used to barely being able to feel the other man’s cock. He’d missed this—the way it felt to have Cor busting him open. Even like this, he was no virgin, just merely tightened back to the way he’d been at the end of his mortal life. A few days unused, after years of use. Some things, at a certain point, really never went back to the way they were. The way they had been. But now he could feel Cor, every curve and line of him, filling Ardyn up just like, just where, he needed to be filled. (Cor _was_ rather more blessed by the Astrals in terms of being well-endowed than Izunia had been. He was a little bit spitefully vindicated about that; not that he would ever tell Cor.)

Getting Cor to beg was almost _too_ easy, and Ardyn purred, rolled his hips back onto the other man’s cock, clenched around him, trailed his fingernails up the inside of Cor’s thigh, scraping over the soft skin there. “You know how to beg, Cor. You do it so well.” Ardyn scraped his nails over the wrinkled, tender skin of Cor’s balls, squeezed them once, and then took himself in hand, stroking his cock off in time with his bouncing thrusts on Cor’s lovely, lovely dick. “So beg.”

\--

Ardyn rolled back down onto him, clenched tight around him, and Cor gasped, arched back against him again. Ardyn’s nails on his thigh made him shudder, and he closed his eyes, moaning. That touch made his skin tingle, made his cock throb inside the other man, and he jerked his hips up again, gasping when he felt Ardyn’s fingers on his balls. The other man’s palm curled around them, squeezing, and Cor let out a quiet, wet sob, tried to move his hips into that touch, too, and then Ardyn let go again, riding him in brisk thrusts, asking him to beg.

It had been so long, he felt himself growing close already, just from how hot and tight Ardyn was around him, and the sheer power the other man was so easily able to exert over him. When Ardyn told him to beg, he parted his lips and closed his eyes and sobbed quietly, the words bubbling up in his throat. “Please, please, please, Your Majesty, _please_.”

\--

Ardyn sighed, displeased, and sank down straight to Cor’s cock until he was as far to the base as he could go, chided Cor by (gently, gently) slapping his balls. “You know more than three words, my dear Marshal. Use them. If you want something, you can ask for it properly or not at all.”

\--

Ardyn just sighed at him, and Cor let out another strangled groan as he sank down further, smacked his balls. “Please,” he managed to get out on the man’s order, swallowing hard. “Ride my cock until I feel like I’m breaking in half, ruin me, ruin yourself _on_ me, use my cock, touch my balls.” He leaned his head back against the floor, eyelids fluttering, pressed his hips into Ardyn’s hand. “ _Please_ touch my balls like that again, it hurts but it feels so good.”

\--

Cor made a strangled, desperate noise when Ardyn struck his balls, and he craned over his shoulder to look at Cor’s face and found it to be one of absolute painful anguish and want, sweat slicking his hair to his skin. He was rolling up into Ardyn, his teeth bared and grit, and Ardyn felt a flush climbing his chest and throat, rolled Cor’s balls too-rough between his fingers and in the palm of his hands, pulled them as far from the other man’s body as he could.

Cor’s cock inside him jumped, hard, throbbing. “My goodness,” Ardyn murmured, voice low and rough. “I never expected this out of you, Marshal,” and that said, he clenched down hard on the thick length breaking him open, balanced Cor’s balls against the palm of his left hand, and brought his right down in a harder slap, a proper slap this time, to see what Cor would do.

\--

Ardyn did as he asked, warm fingers on his balls, grabbing onto him, rolling them in his palm, and Cor gasped and moaned, jerked his hips into his touch, nearly bit his own tongue at the surge of sparks and heat between his legs. He could feel himself leaking inside the other man terribly, pressing deep up into him.

When Ardyn spoke, all he could do was moan, because he’d never expected it either, but it felt so surprisingly _good_ , that sharp, burning pain that made him feel on the verge of coming and too oversensitive all at once. Ardyn was clenching so tight around him, too, he was going to lose his mind.

And then Ardyn took him in hand and, just before he fully realized what was coming, smacked him, hard across the balls. Cor yelped, eyes snapping open wide for a moment as he arched his hips up, and only Ardyn clenching tight around him kept him from coming completely, leaving him teetering just on the edge, gasping and all his muscles tense.

\--

Cor had completely lost his words, reverting to ragged pained little moans and gasps, to begging. Begging, yes, and the anguished, pained yelp when Ardyn struck his balls, the other man practically launching up off of the floor, his whole body tense and his back a tremendous arching bow. Ardyn shuddered, because when Cor had jumped, his _cock_ had jumped too, brutally hard he was sure and throbbing deliciously inside him, leaving his mouth watering a little bit as he shifted up slightly instead of staying hilted so he could grind his prostate, hard, on the arch and curve of Cor’s glans, cockhead digging into Ardyn’s sweetspot hard enough that he could barely see, hard enough it left his jaw aching with tension and a deep-set pain in his bones.

“Ask,” Ardyn whispered, tugging hard on Cor’s balls again, squeezing them in the palms of his hands, thumbs bruising the tender skin, fucking himself until even his good thigh was screaming pain, his bad one aching in a way that would hurt like a _bitch_ later, but worth it to get the perfect angle so that every time he rolled forward Cor’s cock was slamming right into him, just like he wanted. He got his other hand back on his dick again, jerking himself off, fingers dipped into the rolls of his foreskin, over too-tender flesh. “ _Ask_ , Cor, my darling. You have to ask.”

\--

Ardyn shifted to grind Cor’s cock against his prostate and he groaned at that, too, because he knew exactly what Ardyn was doing and it made him shudder, made him burn, and he was so close it was agonizing, but he loved it.

The other man whispered for him to ask, and Cor let out a wheezing breath, rolling his hips, his eyes going wide again as Ardyn tugged on his balls and squeezed them as he fucked himself on his cock, using him just like he wanted to. And when Ardyn called him his darling he sobbed again, brought one hand to his mouth to bite down on something because there were tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he could barely think outside of the feel of Ardyn on his cock and needing to come.

“I want to come,” he got out at last, “Please, let me come just like this, Your Majesty, _please_ , spank my balls like that until I come.”

\--

Cor wheezed, and Ardyn tugged on his balls again. “You can do it, or I’ll get up and leave you here like this.” He said it, but he was completely unsure he could have followed through on the threat. Ardyn was so close himself that if he’d gotten up off of Cor’s dick the very motion of it probably would’ve knocked him over the edge.

When the other man finally did speak, there was an edge of absolute desperation and fear in his voice that made Ardyn pleasantly warm with the knowledge he’d managed to trigger that in the other man. He begged so beautifully, so open and wanting, so _honest_. “Good boy,” Ardyn purred, and did as Cor had asked, even a little harder this time than last time because he’d wanted it so much, had asked for it, and Ardyn knew he could take it, an open-palmed slap to make his balls bounce in Ardyn’s hand, another, and a third just to see how loud Cor could shout when he came, Ardyn’s own eyes almost shut with how damn close he was, knowing he’d get off just on the feel of Cor’s steel-hard dick coming near ten inches deep inside him.

\--

Ardyn told him he was good, and he nearly came, letting out a quiet, needy sob under his breath as he arched his hips up. He was so close, so close he could feel it thrumming through every inch of him. “ _Please_ ,” he begged again, and Ardyn was so hot around him, he was so deep inside him. When the other man struck his balls, he came at once, shuddering, the orgasm already half built-up inside him, and moaned brokenly. And each time Ardyn slapped them after that, it just continued, until he was shaking, shouting and sobbing beneath him, barely even registering that he was making those sounds, he was so completely overcome by the intensity and the oversensitivity and how much it hurt and how _good_ it felt. He closed his eyes and just let it pound through him as he came inside the other man until he couldn’t possibly manage any more, until he was just twitching in the aftermath and sobbing quietly.

When Ardyn stopped, he just slumped and pressed one hand to his face and moaned and tried to catch his breath.

\--

Cor cried out, shouting and sobbing and coming apart like old cloth under and inside him, torn to absolute shreds and _begging_ for it, and Ardyn dug his nails into Cor’s thigh so hard they left crescent bruises as the other man thrust up hard and deep into him, uncontrolled, the head of his cock going too deep into him too quick and all at once, left him yelping in pain and surprise as he followed Cor over the edge.

He’d known he would but it still surprised him to feel it happen, his own balls drawn up rock-tight against the base of his cock, shaking and trembling and clenching around Cor’s length as he fucked up and up and _in_ until Ardyn felt speared open and taken apart and shattered in half. Cor was _so deep_ , too deep, breaking Ardyn’s body for his cock all over again, deep enough that it hurt bright behind his eyes and he bared his teeth as he came in turn, hissing and spitting and fucking himself through orgasm. It hurt but it was so, so damn good, it was just what he’d wanted, just what he’d needed. Just like this. _Just_ like this.

As soon as he was done, though, Ardyn quickly pulled off of Cor’s cock, still shaky and needy in the afterglow, and scrambled. His bad leg almost buckled under him, nearly faceplanting him into the floor, before he got his balance back and crouched over Cor, leaning on either side of his shoulders. He looked helpless and dazed, his blue eyes blown wide and sightless and glassy. “Cor,” Ardyn murmured, dragging his bad leg over as he collapsed onto his knees, pulling the other man’s head onto his lap, trembling almost as hard as the other man was, his normally-graceful fingers clumsy and leaden. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

\--

He felt Ardyn come, clenched tight around him, their hips pressed together. He could feel his heartbeat, could feel him trembling with the force of it, and his nails digging into the soft skin of his thigh. He listened to the sounds he made, the beautiful hissing cries as he continued to fuck himself. Cor arched up into him, too, to try to give him a little more, help him ride it out. When it was done, he relaxed against the floor, content to puddle there, dazed and tingling all over with residual pleasure.

Ardyn pulled off him, nearly fell, scrambled, and Cor almost tried to lean up on one arm to help him but before he could even begin to manage it, Ardyn had recovered and leaned over him, pulled Cor’s head onto his lap. He let out a ragged sigh, looked up at him and shook his head a little when Ardyn apologized. He couldn’t even begin to fathom words, but he managed to roll more towards Ardyn, curl around him with his face pressed against the other man’s thigh. He fumbled for his hand, took it in his, and pulled Ardyn’s fingers against his lips. And then he closed his eyes and breathed him in and tried, slowly, to pull himself back together.

\--

Cor was staring at him, his big blue eyes huge and soft and his face slack with post-orgasmic pleasure, and Ardyn smiled down at him, exhausted. He couldn’t seem to find words, but he did roll further over, closer into Ardyn’s lap, hanging onto him, face in his thighs.

He let Cor take his hand, and slowly smoothed the other man’s hair out of his face, wiping sweat from his bangs, from his beard. He was tired, exhausted, and Ardyn could deal with his aching leg for a bit longer for him. “Let me help you to bed,” he murmured after a moment, fingers curled around the nape of the other man’s neck. “And clean up.”

\--

Ardyn touched his hair gently, pushed it away from his face, wiped his forehead and his beard, and Cor smiled and hummed in contentment, holding onto him. When Ardyn suggested that he help him to bed, he just stayed there for a moment longer, opened his eyes, and nodded a little.

“Yeah,” he muttered after a moment, and half sat up, slumped against him. Ardyn was warm and really, he just wanted to stay there, curl around him, keep him close, protect him. Never let go. For a man he’d been told he shouldn’t trust, who regularly and repeatedly told Cor not to trust him, he trusted him more now than he’d trusted anyone in his life, and now Ardyn was more like himself, they were more like they were before everything took a turn for the worst, and he just wanted everything to stay like it was.

But he would let Ardyn help him up, and clean him, and maybe after that, he could just hold onto him for a while longer.

\--

(Later, Ardyn could only think about how when he’d met Cor, the man had worn his heart bare and on his sleeve, how he hadn’t been able to lie worth a damn, even when he had tried. Later, Ardyn could only think about the fact that Cor had learned to lie _from him_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that from here on in the update schedule will probably be a bit wonky, we've nearly caught up to where we are actually actively still writing the rp. But well... only a few more chapters to go ='D


	20. and in the sea that's painted black, creatures lurk below the deck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should have told me,” he muttered, voice shaking. Why hadn’t Cor told him? If it had been that often, that _much_ , and he’d not even _noticed_ —and Cor was still silent, unable to answer.
> 
> When had Cor learned to lie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [of monsters and men's "king and lionheart"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A76a_LNIYwE)
> 
>  
> 
> _and as the world comes to an end_  
>  _i'll be here to hold your hand_  
>  _because you're my king and i'm your lionheart_

He only learned out that he’d been blacking out the fourth time that it happened, and Ardyn awoke to find himself flat on his back on the floor of the kitchen, hands folded over his stomach, staring at the ceiling, which currently had a knife stuck in it. He just lay there for several minutes trying to get his bearings, before he finally put voice to the question at hand, the one pressing most of all—

“Cor,” Ardyn said, not moving, “Did I put that perfectly good paring knife into your ceiling plaster?”

\--

The blackouts grew longer, just like Ardyn said they would. And not just longer, either— _worse_. No longer would Ardyn just zone out for a few minutes in the middle of Cor reading to him, or in the middle of a television show. Now, he would move about, like he was sleep walking, and it was more unsettling to watch than he could ever admit to Ardyn during his more lucid moments.

He would wander the house, quietly shuffling, making soft, guttural sounds like he was trying to speak and couldn’t figure out how. One time, he spent the better part of an hour walking against one wall of the apartment, hands pressed to the wallpaper, like he was trying to figure out what it was. Another time, he sat on the couch in different positions, then sat directly in front of the tv staring at it. He flushed the toilet over and over for half an hour, pulled the fridge open and ate whatever he could get his hands on regardless of what it was. And always in that same daze, though Cor knew it was the daemons.

And sometimes, the daemons would stare out at him, follow him and watch him, but never really approach him. They always hung back, hesitant. But he knew they knew who he was. And he knew they wanted him dead, or worse. He kept his guard up. He had to. But it was… difficult. Terrifying. Heartbreaking.

Over the past day, it had been nothing but a long stream of similar instances. Ardyn would come back to himself, staring into the fridge or holding a book or laying on the couch, and he never seemed to think much of it. He was losing his sense of time, too, probably, and Cor never told him how long he was out. Ardyn never asked, so he didn’t say. He almost didn’t...want him to know. Didn’t want him to know how bad it was, how quickly it was getting worse. Only worse. How long until the daemons figured out how to speak? Until they figured out how to pilot his body more effectively, how to find and use weapons, how to use Ardyn’s magic? The very thought of the daemons summoning the Armiger sent a chill down his spine.

A knife, by comparison, seemed like nothing. But it was still a knife, and the daemons had found it and used Ardyn to take it. Cor had spent the entire time on the couch, trying to remain calm, sword at the ready just in case. But it was only a paring knife, harmless enough, and he wasn’t sure if he should try to interfere. What would the daemons do if he did? He didn’t want to hurt Ardyn, either. Not at all.

So, he let them have it, and the daemons fumbled with it for a while and eventually tossed it up where it stuck in the ceiling. Some time later, they laid down on the floor for seemingly no reason at all, just flailed a bit like a useless fish.

And then he heard Ardyn’s voice, saying his name, and felt the relief wash over him as all the tension fled from his muscles and he relaxed back onto the couch, staring into the kitchen where Ardyn was still on the floor. (But how long, a voice whispered in the back of his head, until the daemons learned to imitate the way Ardyn spoke. How long until he couldn’t tell them apart. Would he be able to tell, then? He would, he told himself. He would always know whether or not it was really him. He would.

He hoped.)

“Yes,” he said, in response to the question, because there was no way around that one. “You did.”

\--

He had no memory of putting that knife there or, in fact, of ending up on the floor. His memory had been lapses all over the place lately and not from daemons, either—just from simple pain and exhaustion robbing him of his concentration and focus, leaving him distracted and forgetful. And daemons, of course. “Cor,” Ardyn settled in to get comfortable, knees drawn up and ankles crossed, his hands folded and fingers laced over his stomach, “Why did you let the daemons have a knife while I was out?”

\--

Ardyn was often a little dazed when he came back to himself but this time, when he was obviously aware that he’d been out, considering where he was, and the knife, Cor just… stayed where he was. He wasn’t sure if he was ashamed or at a complete loss, or maybe both of those things. The weight of his lies was heavy on his heart, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell him what had been happening while he was out, how long each episode had been, how they were only getting longer.

“I…” he said slowly, fumbling for words, though there was really no good excuse. He should have taken the knife, hidden it somewhere, but… he hadn’t. “I didn’t know what to do,” he settled on, frowning, uncomfortable. “They found it and… it was only a paring knife. I didn’t want to have to hurt you. Or.” Or, the words he swallowed, that he didn’t want to find out what would happen if the daemons decided to lash out.

\--

Ardyn sighed and finally rolled to sit up, grabbed the side of the table, and hauled himself to his feet. Cor was sitting on the couch, looking a little haunted, not wanting to meet his eye. “You know perfectly well how to disarm someone,” he replied, one hand cocked on his hip. “Cor, the whole point of me coming here was so you would be able to hurt me if you had to.” He wanted to be sharp with the man, but there was something off about the way Cor was not looking at him. “Marshal…” Ardyn trailed off. “Don’t go getting soft on me now.”

It was his way of saying, _is there something wrong?_

\--

After a few minutes, like usual, Ardyn was almost entirely back to himself. At least he recovered more quickly now, he wasn’t just out of it all the time like he was for a couple weeks. Still, it was only a matter of time before he slipped off again.

When the other man reminded him that he knew how to disarm someone, Cor snorted at him, tried to smile reassuringly. “You’re right,” he muttered. “You’re right. Next time, I won’t hesitate.” Even if Ardyn _did_ lash out at him, better that than he hurt himself, better that than letting the daemons get their hands on anything that could be used as a weapon.

But when Ardyn said his name like _that_ , soft and laced with concern, Cor let out a slow sigh. He couldn’t hide it forever. So he got up and went to him, wrapped his arms tight around him and pulled him close, pressed his face into his hair. And he tried not to think about how soon it would be before the daemons took control again, how soon it would be before the man was just daemons and shreds and the body of the Ardyn he once knew

“You’ve been out,” he said slowly, “for most of the day. Since… last night.” He pulled him closer, tried to say that he wanted to tell him sooner, that he’d never frozen in the face of anything before, but then—he’d never faced anything like this. But those words didn’t come. Instead, he curled his fingers into the back of his shirt, held him like if he let go Ardyn would slip away from him in an instant. “I keep thinking, this is the end, that you’ll never resurface, and it will be just me and them.”

\--

Cor sighed and Ardyn hesitated, straightened, reached out a hand for the other man as he came over. “Cor,” Ardyn murmured, one palm pressed just over the other man’s shoulderblade as he hid in Ardyn’s hair, held him just a shade too-tight.

As Cor spoke, though, Ardyn began to get cold all over. He held tight and then tighter to the back of Cor’s shirt, let out a shaky handful of breaths, and felt panic rise high like bile in the back of his throat, staring sightlessly down at the floor. “What,” he whispered, stunned, wordless. “I…” he didn’t know what to say; he felt frozen, rooted to the spot. Could not think. “Cor, how long has this been _happening_?”

\--

He could feel Ardyn holding tighter to him, too. This was why he hadn’t wanted to tell him. He knew how horrified he would be, and it was so much better for him to be blissfully unaware that it was happening. Wasn’t it? The last thing he wanted was for him to withdraw, or try to leave and go back to Insomnia. Cor wanted him to stay, if only for the dwindling moments they had together.

He reached up to tangle his fingers into Ardyn’s hair, closed his eyes, held him tighter. When Ardyn asked how long, he went silent for a long moment, until he could feel it stretching too tight between them. “This,” he said at last, “is the worst it’s been. But it’s been getting worse every day, especially this past week. I just… wish I could pull you back somehow. The daemons haven’t done anything bad, yet, but…” He let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to lose you yet.”

\--

“You should have told me,” he muttered, voice shaking. Why hadn’t Cor told him? If it had been that often, that _much_ , and he’d not even _noticed_ —and Cor was still silent, unable to answer.

When had Cor learned to lie?

“You should have told me,” Ardyn said again, teeth bared in fury against himself. His blissful ignorance could not, _would_ not, _ever_ be worth not knowing days were beginning to slip away from him. Ardyn pulled back and away from Cor, took the other man’s face in his hands, and stared searching deep into his eyes. “You promised you would stop them,” Ardyn whispered, words thick and heavy in the back of his throat. “Stop _me_. That’s what you told me, Cor. You promised me that you would, if needs be, kill this wretched husk and fool that I am I _believed_ you. If you can’t follow through with that now, be it of fear or gross sentimentality, then you have failed me, Marshal.

“I cannot stay here if you cannot stop me.”

\--

He knew he should have told Ardyn. He knew how it felt, to be on the receiving end of lies like that. All the things Ardyn had hidden from him over the years, that Cor wished he’d known sooner… and now here he was, doing exactly the same thing.

When he pulled back, Cor just stared at him, met his amber eyes, and looked away again when Ardyn reminded him of his promise. “I know,” he whispered. He still wanted to believe that he could, if he had to. He’d hurt him before, killed him the day they met, and plenty of times after that. He’d hurt him because he hated him, back then, but the idea of hurting him now was… he wasn’t sure if he could. But if Ardyn needed him to, he would have to. He had no choice.

The quiet threat of Ardyn leaving scared him more than anything else. The thought of Ardyn suffering through this and facing it alone… he could not let him do that. He’d sworn himself to him. He loved him. He had to uphold his duty, his promises.

“Don’t leave,” he said, looking back at him. “ _Please_.” He cupped the other man’s cheek in one palm, so they held each other like that. “I can do it. I will, next time, I promise you I will if you just… stay. Stay, and forgive me.” He swallowed, hard. It wasn’t exactly fear that had held him back, more the sentimentality, or some mix of the two. Not fear of the moment but fear of the future. He could be braver than that. He had been before, and he had to be now. “I have no excuse, but I won’t fail again.”

\--

“It’s not me in there,” Ardyn murmured, trailing his fingers down Cor’s arm. “Cor, it’s just daemons. My flesh, but full of them, not me.” He leaned into Cor’s hand on his cheek and closed his eyes, grateful for that human contact more than almost anything else he could have had in that moment. “I never said I blamed you,” Ardyn laughed under his breath as he said it, kissed the palm of the other man’s hand, just over the pulse at the inside of his wrist. “You haven’t failed.”

It was sweet, almost, that Cor wanted Ardyn safe, even if that safety he longed for was not only impossible, but unfitting. It was Ardyn’s body he was worried for, but that had long ceased to be anything permanent. “Cor,” Ardyn gentled, “I’m still in here. My body has recovered from far worse than you twisting my wrist to get a knife away. Protect my peace of mind, rather than this too-solid flesh.”

\--

Ardyn leaned into his touch, muttering soothing words, and Cor felt himself relaxing more just from having him close, having him there and not the daemons, having told him what was happening instead of keeping it in.

“I know,” he muttered, let out a slow, shaky breath, and leaned in to press their foreheads together. “I will.” He could hold back the daemons, make sure they didn’t do anything worse, for Ardyn’s sake. Because that was what he wanted. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He really shouldn’t have frozen up like he did, he just...

He pulled him closer again, watched his face for a moment. “Ardyn. I know this is sudden and selfish but will you…” He let out a slow, shaky sigh, curled his fingers tight into the other man’s shirt. “Will you fuck me, while you’re still here? Please, I… I need to feel you, I need to have you before the daemons come back again, I need you to help me relax or not think or… something. Anything. I don’t know. I hate this feeling of being worried, of being caught off-guard, I never should have let them have that knife but I’ve been so out of sorts, and maybe if you…” He was a mess and he knew it and he stopped himself before he started to sound even more ridiculous. But he honestly hadn’t felt like this since right after the fall of Insomnia, and he hadn’t had anyone to help him then. And now he did.

\--

Ardyn hesitated, surprised, at Cor’s request. “What,” he blinked. “Right _now_?” After he’d just spent hours gone, nearly a day lost. “Right here on the kitchen table?” Ardyn paused, and then pulled away, leaned back on his own. If Cor wanted, he supposed, especially when the other man kept looking at him, manic and terrified and almost overwhelmed. His eyes were wet, and Ardyn leaned closer, pulled him over, kissed him, pressed their foreheads against one another. “Marshal,” he murmured, staring into Cor’s bright, bright eyes, “Hush. You’ve never once failed me.” He added, “And I don’t think you ever shall. But if that would reassure you, my dear, I am happy to oblige.”

\--

If he hadn’t been so flushed and on edge already, he might have laughed at Ardyn’s reaction. It was so like him. All these years together and still whenever Cor asked for anything he acted like it was the world’s greatest chore.

Instead, he just flushed darker. “It doesn’t have to be on the table,” he said, “It doesn’t have to be right this _second_ , Ardyn.” Honestly.

When Ardyn pulled him closer, though, he melted against him a little, kissed him back, sighed in all his pent up overwhelmed fear and need. He managed a smile when Ardyn said he’d never failed him. “Well,” he muttered after a moment. “It would help. I just need… something. You.”

\--

“Tonight,” Ardyn murmured, squeezing Cor’s shoulders. “When I’m feeling a little more myself. I promise.” He pulled away at last and dug around until he found his hair tie (still safely around one of his wrists, the daemons hadn’t figured _that_ one out yet) and tied his curls out of the way, looked up at the ceiling. “Help me...clean up this mess, Marshal. And I’ll make something to eat, and we can shower.”

\--

Ardyn squeezed his shoulders, and Cor nodded, kissing his forehead before he let the other man pull away. “As long as the daemons don’t come back,” he muttered, unsure, but… Ardyn did seem more awake than he’d been all day. Maybe the daemons would finally rest for a little while and leave him be.

He followed his gaze up to the ceiling and sighed. “I’ll get the knife.” And when he did, he could try to hide it somewhere. The best thing to do, after all, was prevent the daemons getting their hands on anything in the first place. “And… that sounds nice.” A shower would help him relax, too. And eating a good meal. Anything but watching Ardyn’s daemons run amok.

\--

They cleaned up, put away things Ardyn hadn’t noticed were misplaced—he very pointedly made sure he didn’t pay any attention to where Cor took the knives. They showered, and it was only after, when Ardyn had prepped the food for Cor’s breakfast the following morning, set aside things for lunch and dinner, that he admitted it was time to rest.

He couldn’t rely on himself any more. And he couldn’t force Cor to take care of both of them.

It was only when they had turned the lights out, when Cor was laying down to sleep, that Ardyn reached over, tangled his fingers in the short hair at the nape of the other man’s neck, and pulled him up, into his arms.

“Ready?”

\--

Cor hid the knives as well as he could, and they showered together, and Ardyn cooked, and the daemons, thankfully, did not return. Everything was almost as normal as it ever was, and he felt significantly more relaxed. Ardyn even prepared meals ahead of time, in case he wasn’t awake when meal times came.

Eventually, when the lights were out and they were under the blankets, he felt Ardyn’s fingers in his hair and the other man pulled him over. Cor curled his arms around him, pressed his face against Ardyn’s neck. “Yes,” he muttered, and let out a shaky breath. “More than ready.”

\--

Cor curled up hopefully into him, face shoved into his neck, and Ardyn slid his hands down the other man’s sides, rubbed palms over his too-sharp hipbones. “You want me to take over completely, Marshal?”

\--

Ardyn’s hands were warm against his sides and Cor pressed closer to him, closed his eyes. When they’d done it before, he’d always consented to Ardyn taking control somewhere in the middle of whatever they were doing. Normally, he wanted to give Ardyn whatever _he_ wanted, and that was how it almost always started out. That was what he loved. But it was different, this time.

“Yes,” he said, quietly. “This time, I just need to… trust you, and not worry or think for a little while.”

\--

“All right,” Ardyn gentled. As always, being trusted like this, explicitly, with all of another person, was almost too much. He didn’t deserve it; felt as if he hadn’t earned it. But Cor gave it unquestioning every time.

He rolled the other man over, slid his hands up Cor’s thighs, spread his legs, and kissed him. Kissed him, settled over him, pinned him pliant and spread against the sheets, thumbed his hipbones again, and slid his fingers under the waistband of his trousers and boxers. It was all too easy to coax them off and down his legs, to ruck the other man’s shirt up his stomach, Ardyn’s nails scraping through the hair over his abs and pecs, and then pin him down with one hand flat over his navel.

“Hand me the lube?” Ardyn murmured, between kisses, teeth scraping over the other man’s soft lower lip.

\--

He breathed slow and easy as Ardyn rolled him over, spread his legs, and tangled his fingers gently up into the other man’s hair, pulled him down into their kisses. When he felt Ardyn tugging at his trousers, he helped him get them off, pulled his shirt up over his head when Ardyn pushed it up over his chest. Then he laid back, shuddered at the feeling of the other man’s nails scraping over his muscles, and spread his thighs again.

“Mhm,” he muttered, reaching for the drawer where they kept the lube, leaning up to nip gently back at his lips. He pressed the bottle into the other man’s hand and slid his fingers up under the edge of Ardyn’s shirt, resting his palm at his waist.

\--

They moved as a unit, Cor opening into Ardyn’s touch, reaching in tandem for the lube, stripping out of their clothes. They weren’t urgent at all and it was _nice_ , just to spend time touching one another. “All right,” he murmured, dragging his shirt off, and then twisting so his trousers slid down around his thighs, kicked them off over the edge of the bed, and put the bottle of lube in reach.

And then, just because he could, Ardyn leaned over Cor, let the other man take his weight, fingers cupping the back of his neck, and kissed him. It was _nice_ just to kiss him, to kiss him and kiss him, just for the sake of kissing him. “Is this what you wanted? Do you want something more?”

\--

Ardyn stripped slowly, too, touched him and kissed him, taking his time. It was not at all how it usually was. Fast. Desperate. This was just… nice, and he felt himself relaxing more and more beneath Ardyn’s hands and lips. He took his weight easily when Ardyn leaned over him, tilted his head into their kisses, parted his lips and drank him in and kissed him deeper, until he was all flushed, his breath coming a little heavier, his cock hardening between his thighs. Ardyn had always kissed masterfully and Cor, fingers tangled into his beautiful curls, kissed him back again and again.

When Ardyn muttered those words against his lips, he let out a shaky sigh and smiled at him. “You’re going to tease me all night if I don’t tell you otherwise, aren’t you?” he mumbled. “Of course this is what I wanted, but you know I want more. Let me feel your fingers in me.”

\--

Ardyn clucked his tongue at the other man. “Always in such a _rush_ , Marshal,” he murmured, cracking open the bottle of lube and slicking two fingers, reaching between the other man’s thighs to start opening him up. As rarely as they did this, Cor always took it beautifully. He was so relaxed (trusting, too trusting) that getting one, and then a second, finger in him was as easy as breathing. “You’re supposed to savour moments like these, you know. Commit them to memory, I’m told.”

\--

Cor snorted at him, though it wasn’t exactly easy to come up with a decent retort as he felt Ardyn’s slicked fingers pressing against his entrance, pushing into him. He let out a slow breath, relaxed against the mattress and leaned his head back on the pillow, let Ardyn ease him open, moaned quietly as he got one finger in, then two. Even tight, it felt so incredibly good when he let all the tension flow out of his muscles, enjoyed the feeling of the man’s fingers inside him.

“Is that so,” he muttered, grunting a little as he spread his legs more, pressed his hips into the other man’s touch. “I don’t think you have any room to lecture me, considering how much you always beg. Last time I tried that, you kicked me off the bed.”

\--

Cor grunted, and Ardyn paused, watched the other man’s face the way the shadows lit it. It was always so different from the way it looked in the light. He adjusted the angle of his fingers slightly, pulled out, twisted, and tugged on Cor’s rim to get him to loosen up, one hand curling possessively over the other man’s hipbone. “Well, you aren’t me,” Ardyn murmured. “You’re an old man, Marshal. I can’t push you too hard. You might break a hip. We have to all be aware of our limits and weaknesses, my dear. Not all of us are blessed with nubile immortal bodies.” He said, like he wasn’t physically a man in his mid-forties.

\--

He could feel Ardyn tugging on his rim, trying to get him to loosen further, and he groaned at the feel of his fingers twisting inside him, opening him up. Flushed and spread out on the bed, he watched Ardyn’s face, the glow of his amber eyes and the fall of his wavy red hair brushing his shoulders. Even too skinny and sick as he was, even with greyed skin from black blood and hardly any fat left on his bones, he was beautiful. He’d always been beautiful.

Even as he watched him, though, and marvelled at the way he looked in the low light, he snorted at him. “I’m not _that_ old. I’m only fifty, Ardyn.” Ageing, yes, and not as young as he used to be, but not _old_. “Anyway, even immortal you’re not much younger than me.” He’d always found it a little odd that when they met, Ardyn appeared older than him, and now younger. But he’d also grown accustomed to Ardyn’s immortality, to the way he never changed.

Cor spread his legs a little more, rolled his hips insistently. “If you’re going to take it slow, at least go back to saying it’s because you want to savour it and not because I’m _old_.”

\--

Ardyn looked up at Cor and gasped, affronted, his clean hand pressed to his breast. “Cor Leonis!” He shook his head, appalled. “You can’t make jest of a handsome fellow’s age! Why, I’ve never been so insulted in my life. I’m tempted to just leave you hanging here.”

But he huffed, acquiesced, and slid the tip of a third finger into Cor’s entrance, tugging on his rim more and twisting them to get him open wider. “I do want to savour it,” he admitted at last, leaning his clean hand on the sheet beside Cor’s waist, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t get to do this much. You like me in you less than the other way around.”

\--

Cor just sighed, long-suffering, closed his eyes and shook his head a little. But at least Ardyn was being his usual overdramatic self. That was definitely comforting.

He let out a stilted breath, tensed a little and moaned quietly as Ardyn pressed another finger into him, shifting on the sheets, rolling his hips up. Ardyn hadn’t touched his cock at all and it was hard and starting to leak now, aching. And as Ardyn leaned closer and admitted, honestly, that he did want to savour it, Cor just ached for him even more. He twisted his fingers gently into the other man’s hair, looked up at him as Ardyn leaned in. “That’s true,” he muttered, ran his thumb across Ardyn’s cheekbone, touched his face, always rough with stubble. He smiled. “Now I can’t even complain about you teasing me, you’re being sweet.”

\--

Cor was looking up at him, eyes bright in the low light, smiling like a foolish child.

Ardyn smiled back. Because they were in that, at least, a matched pair. Tilted his face into the other man’s hand as Cor ran a thumb over his cheekbone, to feel the arc of it under his skin. “Don’t get used to it,” Ardyn told the other man, pulling his fingers free from inside him and slicking his own cock with the remains of the lube, knocking Cor’s thighs apart and bumping their foreheads into one another. “Ready, Marshal?”

\--

The momentary gentleness was unusual, but appreciated. Maybe it was because they both knew what was coming, and that weight felt heavier than ever on his chest, and in the air between them. They still had time, he hoped, but for a moment, he touched the other man’s cheek like he never would again, curled his fingers along his jaw, then ran them back into his hair, as wild and soft and red as ever, even in the dim light.

Ardyn nudged his thighs apart and Cor let him, spread them further, and let out a shaky breath when he pressed their foreheads together. “Yes,” he muttered. “Oh, yes.”

\--

Somewhere between him asking and Cor saying yes, so fast that Ardyn almost didn’t realise it had happened, he just pushed the other man the rest of the way open and then slid home. Cor was tight, but Ardyn wasn’t huge, and the moment he slid in to the base he let out a shaking breath and settled onto his heels, ran his palms up the other man’s thighs, and leaned over him.

He sighed, needy, and pressed his forehead to Cor’s knee. “Stars, you feel so good. You’re so fucking tight; you’re all hot inside.” He thrust, just once, to see how it felt, and had to settle further into the mattress. “Why do we never do this more often?”

\--

He could feel Ardyn’s cock nudging against his entrance, and then pressing in and all at once, sliding into him. Cor gasped, clenched around him and pressed his head back against the pillows, moaning quietly. He held tight to Ardyn’s hair, resting his other palm on Ardyn’s side, fingers curled against his skin, and breathed.

It felt good, having that weight in him, grounding him. He needed it, needed it desperately, and he pressed his hips tight back against Ardyn’s, curled his legs around him, heels pressed to the other man’s ass. “You,” he muttered, combing his fingers through his hair and looking up at him, half-moaning when Ardyn thrust into him. “You feel amazing.”

Cor smiled a little, pushed Ardyn’s hair back away from his forehead. “Well, you love being fucked, and I love fucking you. But this is…” He let out a shuddering breath. “This is good, too.” He rolled their hips together, panted quietly as he looked up at him. “I like having you above me, like this.”

\--

Cor held onto his side, grounded them both, pressed their hips together and curled up around him and dug his heels into Ardyn’s ass. “I’m not moving,” he warned the other man, even as Cor tried to drive him deeper. “Trust me, my dear Marshal, but I can say unequivocally that you feel better.” A little bit like being broken in half and drowned, all his higher thought processes absolutely shotgunned and gone.

“I do love your giant fat cock in me,” Ardyn did have to admit, rolling his hand up the other man’s length, fingers trailing over the dripping tip. It filled his palm and more, wider than Ardyn’s wrist, and so long he couldn’t fit it in both his fists. “It’s a bit like trying to tame a stallion chocobo, fresh and fiery from breeding for the races. Only it’s your throbbing erection, and I am a _very_ accomplished jockey.”

\--

Cor groaned quietly beneath him as Ardyn touched his length, warm palm against his aching cock, brushing the tip, and he could feel it throbbing, leaking against his stomach. But Ardyn’s description was so specific and bizarre and strangely arousing that he shifted beneath him and just stared at him, panting. He didn’t even know what to say to that except that Ardyn _was_ , and he did love Ardyn riding his dick, but those words didn’t come out, just a quiet, breathy moan as he rolled his hips toward him again hopefully.

\--

Cor was staring at him, and Ardyn burst into an absolute fit of giggles, ducked his head as the other man kept gawping at him. “I’ll admit,” he managed, wheezing for breath as he pressed both his hands flat to the bedsheets, “That was a _little_ incomprehensible, even for me.”

\--

Ardyn giggled, gasping for breath as he bent down over him and Cor let out a long-suffering breath of his own, smiled and shook his head. “You,” he muttered, rubbing his palm up the other man’s side to run his fingers over his ribs, counting the gaps between them. “You’re something else.” He twisted his fingers in his hair, pulled him down a little closer. “But when is my King going to fuck me like he promised?”

\--

Cor smiled at him, and Ardyn cocked both eyebrows. “I’m doing my best,” Ardyn demurred. “But yes, I do suppose I rather _have_ kept you waiting, haven’t I?” He shifted, settled, adjusted until they were pressed close together, as close as they could be. He pulled back, found a slow pace, just enough, just a little bit.

If Cor wanted it, he would get it at Ardyn’s pace, and nothing else. “Cor,” he said, after a moment, still watching the other man’s face, fucking him gently, almost too-slow. “After I die, I want you to promise me something.”

\--

“Mmhm,” Cor muttered, leaning back and relaxing as Ardyn settled against him, pressed in close, and the other man started up a slow, gentle pace. He moaned a little, but it was so slow it made him ache. It was nowhere near enough, but Ardyn had pressed them so tightly together all he could do was try to shift his hips, try to get a little more friction. The other man’s cock was heavy and hot in him and that felt good on it’s own, but the more Ardyn dragged it on the more he wanted to be fucked senseless for once in his life.

When Ardyn said his name he looked up at him, pulled out of his momentary frustrated, needy daze. “What is it?” he asked quietly. He didn’t want to say that _now_ , when Ardyn was making him lose his mind with all the teasing, was maybe not the best time to tell him something important, but they were close, maybe the most intimate they’d ever been, and Cor would have promised him anything anyway, and upheld it.

\--

“Don’t look so put-out,” he murmured, running his palm up the underside of Cor’s cock as they stared at one another, quiet and gentle in the low bedroom light. “I’m not trying to ruin the mood. You’ll get what you want, I promise.” He pressed deeper, to feel Cor clench around him. “I just want you to promise me that after I die, you won’t give up on this out of some misplaced sense of guilt.” Years before, he had made Cor promise that he wouldn’t become another Regis. This was just that in slightly different terms. “Don’t live your life alone and celibate because of me, Cor. I know I can’t very well tell you to be happy after I’m gone, but I can wish you not to live alone and miserable with my ghost as a skeleton in your closet. I’ll have you know if you do try it, I’ll be quite cross with you.

“Just promise me you’ll try to be happy. Try to find someone else. Please.”

\--

Cor snorted quietly at him, shuddering as Ardyn’s palm ran up his length, that gentle touch making him ache again. But Ardyn had him worried, and he watched him, held him as close as he could.

He should have known it would be something like that. Honestly, he’d tried not to think too hard about what he would do when Ardyn was gone. He knew it would be difficult, to move on. But Ardyn had always begged Cor to not treat him as he had Regis, to not pine for him, to not give his life away. He knew Ardyn said that because he loved him. He knew the other man wanted him to find whatever happiness he could in the coming years. It wasn’t an easy thing, but his heart was aching, too, and he nodded after a long few moments, staring over the other man’s shoulder.

“I will,” he muttered. “I promise. I will… try.” He nodded again, to himself. “I will try.” He met the other man’s eyes, combed his fingers back through Ardyn’s hair again. He didn’t know how Ardyn thought he would ever find anyone who could even begin to compare but… if it would help Ardyn be at peace, knowing Cor would do his best to not be completely alone, he would do it.

\--

Ardyn smiled at Cor, leaned forward, the other man folding under him, to kiss him gently. “That’s all I ask,” he murmured, voice husky and soft with arousal. “Just try. Thank you.” As long as Cor wasn’t going to lock himself away out of some misplaced desire or idea that Ardyn would want it, would _want_ him to be lonely and miserable forever, that was pretty much all that he could ask for.

They had spoken of enough sorrow and stress, though, for now and for every other day and night, so Ardyn finally started to fuck the other man properly, grinding deep and hard into him, filling him full and more and gasping at the friction of it against him. Sex was despite it all mercifully still easy; it was easy to lose himself in the feeling and the pressure and the way that it was with just them and nothing else, together and lost in one another.

\--

Ardyn leaned down and kissed him and Cor leaned up into it, letting out a quiet sound of need. The reminder that Ardyn would be gone soon just made him want to pull the other man closer, as close as he could, to hold him tight for all the time that remained.

When Ardyn started to fuck into him though, at long last, he groaned and relaxed, staring up at him through half-closed eyes, rocking his hips up into every thrust. He always forgot how good it felt to be filled like that, hot and deep, to feel Ardyn pressing into him, brushing his prostate, the two of them panting and close, their skin slicked with sweat. Cor dragged Ardyn down by his hair to get him even closer, and to kiss him long and deep because that was all he wanted. Closeness. Another good memory to hold onto.

\--

They were kissing, rolling together, and when Ardyn could feel Cor starting to tighten around him, he paused, panting for breath, sweat dripping into his eyes, his body like an electric wire, his lips tingling from all their kissing. “Cor,” he murmured, wrapping one hand around the other man’s cock, “Can you hold off for me? Just a little longer?”

\--

With the two of them kissing like that and Ardyn fucking deep into him, he could feel himself drawing closer, panting against the other man’s lips, and he drew his knees up a little more, tried to angle him in deeper.

Ardyn’s fingers on his cock made him groan, sent sparks up his spine, and he half-sobbed as he looked up at him. He was so close, he could feel it tingling in the pit of his stomach. If Ardyn stroked him just once he probably would have come. But, Ardyn didn’t want him to, so he breathed, hard and shaky at the other man’s request, and nodded, fingers twisted tight in Ardyn’s red curls, holding onto him. “I can,” he muttered, voice trembling just a little, but he would have done anything Ardyn asked him to, _especially_ when he said his name gently like that, making him ache.

\--

Cor’s fingers twisted, grounding, in his hair, held tight. Ardyn smiled gently down at him, benevolent, and kissed him again. “Thank you,” he replied, shifting slightly to take the other man a little faster, a little harder. He was so tight, and tighter still like this teetering on just the barest edge of orgasm, tight enough that Ardyn could feel himself wanting to come apart at the seams, spill into him.

“Cor,” he whispered, voice cracking, as his only warning, before Ardyn’s stomach clenched and he seized up, panting between his grit teeth, their foreheads pressed together near to bruising and came, shuddering up from his toes, his balls tight and his cock _throbbing_ with it. Fucking his come into the other man, knowing he was marking Cor with something almost as indelible as ink, left a frisson of heat on his spine. That no matter how many years passed, this would still have happened, was a relief.

\--

Cor watched Ardyn, wide-eyed, as the other man thanked him, kissed him, and shifted inside him, jerking his hips, fucking hard into him. He just held on tight, moaning beneath him, tensing all over and so, _so_ close. He nearly came apart when Ardyn said his name, gasping and panting, but he held himself back, because Ardyn hadn’t told him he could, and he wanted to be good for him. He could feel Ardyn coming inside him a moment later and it was so much, he shook and leaned his head back on the pillows and let out a pent up sob, and Ardyn still kept fucking into him, shoving deep inside. He knew he’d be leaking Ardyn’s come for ages and that thought just made him harder, closer, knees drawn back and all of him tight, right on the edge.

“ _Please_ ,” he got out, trembling. “May I come?”

\--

Cor sounded absolutely shattered, and Ardyn pressed a hand flat to his chest, palm over the dip of his sternum, bit the other man’s lower lip to bleeding. “Just a little longer,” he murmured, dragging his fingers over the other man’s length, digging the pad of his thumb into Cor’s slit, squeezing. “You can do it.” He started jerking Cor off, quick little strokes just around the head of his cock, gliding his palm through the other man’s pre, calluses scraping over the sensitive glans. “For me. Just a little longer.”

\--

Ardyn’s palm pressed to his chest, hot against his skin, and he nipped gently back at his lips, moaned quietly. Ardyn told him he just need to wait a little longer, but he was so close he was shaking, and every time he felt it ease off it surged back again, close, so close. “I can’t,” he sobbed, “I’m too close, I’m going to—” But Ardyn wanted him to hold off and he bit his own lip and twisted his fingers in the other man’s hair. “I’m trying.”

His words were so gentle, his touch even more gentle than that, and Cor nearly lost it when Ardyn’s fingers wrapped warm around the head of his cock, touching him just enough to hold him right there on the precipice but not to send him over, thumb pressing against his slit, digging in just right, his palm against the head, and Cor was gasping for breath, sweating too much, rocking his hips. “ _Your Majesty_ ,” he sobbed quietly as he trembled under that touch, desperately wanting to climax and completely unable to, but at the same time, there was something incredible about the way Ardyn held him right there, left him shaking. “ _Please, please, please_.”

\--

“You’re so good,” Ardyn murmured, fucking Cor through the oversensitivity after his own orgasm, trying to ride out his hardness as long as possible. Cor looked touch-starved and overwhelmed, his high cheekbones stained splotchy and his blue eyes bright as coals, alight. “Just a little longer,” he promised, gently, squeezing the head of the other man’s erection tight between his fingers, to stave him off just a little bit longer. “I want to remember this,” Ardyn confided, his voice cracking on the whisper. “I want to remember what you look like right now. I don’t want to ever forget it.” He knew Cor could hang on just a little longer. He was so good. He always had been. “Say my name, Cor. Please.”

\--

He nearly came again when Ardyn told him how good he was, and sobbed and begged instead, gasping for breath, but Ardyn was just dragging it out more and more and he _loved_ it, wanted him to, wanted to hold onto that moment, where everything was too hot and too bright and every inch of him was teetering on the edge, with Ardyn deep inside him, Cor filled by him and his come, his cock in the other man’s hand. But most of all he wanted to hold onto the sight of Ardyn looking down at him, with Cor’s hands in his wild red hair, and his amber eyes soft, voice grating as he whispered soothing words into the air between them.

“Ardyn,” he sobbed when the other man asked, trying to claw him closer, to thrust into his hand. “ _Ardyn_. Ardyn, _please_.” Though he wasn’t sure anymore if he was really begging to come or just… for Ardyn to stay, for everything to stay just like it was.

\--

To hold out any longer was cruelty for certain, especially with the way Cor looked at him, in awe and anguish and want, fingers clawing at his hair, blue eyes wide and wet. “You can,” Ardyn curled his other hand around the back of Cor’s neck, dragged him closer, their noses tip-to-tip, foreheads pressed together. “You can.” He closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed it in—this dark room, their bodies tangled, the knowledge that he was dying a little bit more every passing day.

And that they still had this. That, even after he passed, he would have still had this. “In aeternum te amabo,” Ardyn whispered, thumb grinding over Cor’s cockhead. “Always, Cor, always, always.”

\--

Ardyn said he could, dragged him closer, and Cor sobbed, tears at the corners of his eyes from the desperation and the overstimulation, and he shook beneath Ardyn’s hands as the other man touched him, one warm palm around the back of his neck, the other on his cock.

But it wasn’t the touch but his words that made Cor shudder over the edge. The whispered Old Lucian, the affection, the promise, and Cor sobbed again, nearly started to cry as he groaned and finished hard, spilled himself over Ardyn’s hand, trembling. He kept shaking as it coursed through him, dragged Ardyn down against his lips to kiss him, open-mouthed and desperate to have him even closer as he rode it all out.

“ _I love you_ ,” he got out at last, as the hot waves of pleasure started to recede. The words were shaky against the other man’s lips, and he rubbed his thumb at the joint of Ardyn’s jaw, the other still curled tight in his hair. “Stay here, stay, just… for a while longer.”

\--

Cor came apart in the shreds between one breath and the next, shaking apart in Ardyn’s hold. He sounded like he was about to cry, kissing Ardyn open-mouthed and wet and desperate and clawing at him.

When Cor said he loved him, Ardyn trembled, and framed the other man’s face with his hands. “Marshal, you should know by now that I’ll stay as long as I possibly can.” He ran his fingers over Cor’s nose, his brow, wiped away the few tears at the corners of his eyes. “As long and longer, if I can. The last thing I want to do is leave you.” Now, or ever.

\--

Ardyn cupped his face in his hands and Cor stared up at him, gasping for breath, and just kept holding onto him, curling up against him as much as he could. He let out a quiet, desperate sound when Ardyn told him he would stay, would stay as long as he could, and Cor wrapped his arms up around him as Ardyn wiped away his tears, touched his face.

“Mmhm,” he muttered, shaking a little still, trying not to let tears well up in his eyes again at the idea of Ardyn leaving, of losing him. He wanted him to have peace, to rest, he wanted that so much, and it felt selfish to want him to stay at the same time, but he’d lost so much, so many times over, if he could just have him for another month… another year… just one more…

He pulled him close, as close as he could, squeezed the other man gently against him, buried his face into his hair, and closed his eyes.


	21. there is no weight that could bury us beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Two thousand years,” he growled, melodramatic and _pissed_ , “of nothing at all, and this is how I get to spend the end of it. A broken man laying in a bathtub, counting the days until my inevitable and untimely demise at the hands of a sacrificial lamb who couldn’t slaughter a child if you held the blade for him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [coheed and cambria's "dark side of me"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_Ls7RQBq_E)
> 
>  
> 
> _oh, this has become hell_  
>  _how can i share this life_  
>  _with someone else?_  
>  _i promise you_  
>  _there is no weight that can bury us_  
>  _beneath the ghosts of all my guilt_
> 
>    
>  _here in the dark side of me_
> 
>    
> tags for this chapter: relationship abuse
> 
> and well maybe you can guess where this is going :')

It was impressive, what you could find funny given the context—or the lack of it. For example, Ardyn had begun to find it hysterical where he would wake up. Cor was pretty good about keeping him pinned in the apartment, but as the months wore on the daemons got smarter, figured out more tricks, saw new openings. They began to understand locks, windows, doors. They had not yet done anything to hurt Cor, but every day was more nerve-wracking than the last. It was only a matter of time before they turned their attention from learning how to undo a latch to learning how to count a man’s ribs.

Their anniversary was spent with friends coming by, with armfuls of food and flowers. Their anniversary was spent with Ardyn in a feverish haze collapsed in bed, trying to appear coherent for the brief moments that other people had to see him, to make a façade that he was healthier than he wanted to let on that he was. People other than Cor, anyway, who had cleaned up far more than his fair share of black bile and wrested dangerous implements from Ardyn’s lax and unresisting hands.

Their anniversary _ended_ with Ardyn sprawled boneless, shivering, and miserable in the bathtub, his head pillowed on Cor’s thighs, sighing between his teeth as he watched the most recent attempt at cleaning him off, the water mostly dark-grey, spiral slowly down the drain.

“Two thousand years,” he growled, melodramatic and _pissed_ , “of nothing at all, and this is how I get to spend the end of it. A broken man laying in a bathtub, counting the days until my inevitable and untimely demise at the hands of a sacrificial lamb who couldn’t slaughter a child if you held the blade for him.” Not for the first time, he added, “I almost wish I had just slept through the whole thing. Gone to bed and woken up when Noctis arrived to do away with me.”

\--

Ardyn had asked Cor to stop the daemons if they tried anything dangerous again, and Cor did as he’d promised. Over the days and weeks, he grew used to Ardyn’s sudden shifts. As he always had with his sworn duties, he took it to heart. He would monitor the daemons when they took over Ardyn’s body, and most of the time they didn’t do anything other than wander and stare, like they always had. But they were starting to pick up on how to use their new vessel. They were figuring out how to open locks, what windows and doors were for. He blocked them from passing through either one, of course, and at first they let him. Over time, they began to react, more and more. They’d push him away, shout at him, not in words, just in angry unintelligible syllables.

They hadn’t lashed out or tried to hurt him, not purposefully, not yet, but every day he grew more wary of them, kept his guard up, even when Ardyn was himself. He hated that he could never relax around him, because he had no idea when he might shift, when the daemons might try to catch him off-guard. But it was as it was, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

On their ninth anniversary, Ardyn was, for whatever reason, more himself than usual. At least, the amount of time he was himself was significantly more than it was on most days. Cor wasn’t sure which he would have rather had. Taking care of him while he was feverish and miserable was almost worse, not for him, but for Ardyn. Cor had always been glad he never remembered the hours he lost when the daemons took over.

Eventually, when it was too late for guests, and Cor was finished fielding whispered questions about Altum’s health and accepting gifts, he managed to get him into the bath.

Gently, he washed him in the warm water, scrubbed his skin and his hair with a cloth that had been blackened with stains weeks ago, until the water was all black and grey, too. He sat on the edge of the tub, trousers off, Ardyn leaning against his thighs, and ran his fingers through the other man’s recently cleaned hair, pushing it away from his face.

“You knew it might be like this,” he muttered, wetting the cloth again to scrub gently at the stains along his back. “And you know I would make it easier if I could.”

\--

Ardyn huffed angrily into Cor’s skin and waved a hand, lazy. “Well, yes, I did, I’ve seen enough cases of the Scourge in my life both before _and_ after the advent of modern medicine and the arrival of the Oracles, but I’d rather hoped that, you know, Noctis would do the whole thing rather quickly. Painlessly, that sort of thing.” He paused. “I almost wish I’d not let Bahamut take him into the Crystal. I probably could have explained the whole thing to him before he finished me off, the context of it hardly matters.” No doubt Bahamut as well was leaving some interesting—and essential—facts out of the explanation.

He tended to do that.

Ardyn didn’t say it, but what he wanted to add was how he was here instead, wasting both of their time, trying to give palliative care to a man who died before Lucis had even been a fucking kingdom.

\--

“I know,” Cor muttered quietly as he washed the other man’s shoulders, brushing his hair out of the way. “If I could make him come back sooner…” He wished he could. Call Noctis back, let Ardyn rest before this grew too much worse, before he lost any more of himself. “But, at the same time, our years together have been… some of my happiest. I hate to see you suffer, but I’m glad that, at the least, we got to be together. Even now, there’s nothing I want more than to make it easier for you. You know that.”

\--

Ardyn made a quiet noise, low in the back of his throat, and dragged his fingertips lazily up Cors calf, trailing through the wet hairs congealed dark against his tan skin. “I know,” he agreed, not otherwise moving, just feeling the play of Cor’s muscles under his skin, corded and powerful even with age and too-many months spent sedate looking after a dying man. “My dear man, would you mind terribly handing me the shower head so I can rinse my hair out?”

\--

Cor ached at the quiet sound the other man made, sighed as Ardyn dragged his fingers along his calf. The touch was gentle, appreciative, and simple, and he stroked Ardyn’s hair in return, gently, along the back of his neck, tugging on it just enough to be affectionate.

When he asked for the shower head, Cor leaned over to pull it from its holder and handed it to him. “Here.” He smiled. “Just don’t go spraying it all over me, too.”

\--

Cor rubbed the nape of his neck, a gesture as proprietary as it was meant to reassure, and Ardyn laughed at the other man’s words, glanced up at him from under lidded eyes. “Why, Marshal,” he murmured, conspiratorially, “I’m _astonished_ that you’d think so lowly of me.” As he spoke, Ardyn turned the water on warm, and sprayed the head until it was coming out hot again, and started to soak his curls, trying to deal with the old, frayed strands, matted with drying, viscous blood. “After all these years, you really think I’d do that? I’m hurt, Cor, genuinely so. You’ve absolutely eviscerated my three remaining feelings.”

He then immediately turned the showerhead so that it sprayed the other man directly full-on in the face.

\--

Cor snorted at him, hesitant to give it to him as soon as he started talking like that. Of course he still expected it, would have been more surprised if he hadn’t, but he relaxed a little when Ardyn started washing his hair out, working out dirt and blood, using the showerhead for its intended purpose.

“Oh, please,” he muttered, smiling a little. “I’ve done no such thing—” And then Ardyn turned the showerhead on him so suddenly, he let out a muffled shout of surprise as he was blasted in the face with water, reaching out reflexively to grab onto it and take it away from him as he leaned out of the spray. He was almost laughing as he leaned down to duck out of it. “Oh no, no, that’s it, you’ve lost your shower privileges now,” he said, grinning because he didn’t really know what he’d expected, because Ardyn was and always had been a little shit, and he loved him, and at least if he was being an ass he was feeling more like himself.

\--

Cor spluttered and shouted and grabbed reflexively for the showerhead, but Ardyn leaned away from him, taking it with him. “I’ve lost my what?” Ardyn replied, plastering himself against the other side of the tub, soaking Cor’s shirt (and the better part of the bathroom floor along with it.) “I’m sorry, my dear, I just _cannot_ hear you over the shower going! Did you say something?” He sprayed Cor in the face again when he tried to get too close, and used the water on the floor of the tub to slide further down, away from him, like a slippery bar of soap. “I’m afraid these old bones have finally given up and I can’t seem to control my hands any more.”

\--

Even as Cor reached for the showerhead, Ardyn pulled away from him, just out of reach, and turned the water on him again, until it was spraying everywhere, and his shirt was soaked and sticking to his skin.

“ _Ardyn_ ,” he ground out as the other man proclaimed loudly that he could no longer hear him, sliding further and further away, but Cor was half-laughing, too, even as he got soaked to the skin and sprayed in the face so hard it was all dripping into his eyes and he had to turn his head and hold up his hands to try to see anything. He was eventually left with no choice but to climb down into the water, and he was surprised he hadn’t slid in already anyway, reaching out blindly to try to find the other man and pin him down.

\--

“You know!” Ardyn raised his voice to something near-manic, giggling the whole time, “Your rage would be far more believable if you weren’t laughing the whole way!” Cor had his hand in front of his face to try and block the water, fumbling and reaching blindly to try and pin Ardyn down. Armed with a better range of motion and not blinded by water, Ardyn evaded as best he could, soaking Cor’s boxers until they practically were cling-wrap around his dick, and finally yelped in unhappy surrender as the other man got a hand around his wrist, thumb digging into his tendons. “This is _no_ way to treat royalty,” he complained as loudly as he dared, sprawled naked and absolutely sopping wet underneath Cor Leonis upside-down in a bathtub, his blood and water absolutely everywhere. “I’ve never been so maltreated in my whole life.”

\--

They splashed in the water together, laughing, and Cor didn’t even care that his clothes were soaked through, that his hair was dripping down his forehead and down the back of his neck. When he finally pinned him, he grinned in triumph, leaning over him and working the showerhead from his hand to take it from him. “You’re a royal pain in the ass is what you are,” he grunted, “and a menace.” He leaned down to kiss him, gently. “A menace that I love. Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gotten me sopping wet. You’d better help me get these off.”

\--

“Marshal!” Ardyn gasped, absolutely delighted, as he surrendered the showerhead. It was quite the turn of phrase; he hadn’t expected it. “You’re already nearly naked,” Ardyn pointed out, sliding as he managed to sit back up. He started to wring out his hair as he spoke, folding his legs up under him. It was a special talent to look regal while soaking wet, covered in blood, and half-sideways in a bathtub. “I don’t think you really have a great deal to lose here.”

\--

Ardyn sat up in the water, wringing out his hair, and Cor leaned back a little, reached over and turned the shower head off and set it aside. The water was disgusting, but he didn’t particularly care. “True,” he said, and sighed, shaking his head. “I should have stripped before I started helping you bathe, anyway. It was only a matter of time before I ended up in the water with you.”

He did only have his shirt and underwear on, but he felt much better when he peeled out of his soaking shirt and tossed it over the edge of the tub. “We should get out of this water, so I can drain the tub.”

\--

Ardyn snorted at him. “You think I ever intended otherwise, my dear?” He’d known from the moment that he’d asked Cor to help him, so he wasn’t covered in crap, that it was going to end in the two of them sopping wet and wrestling back and forth.

As he fingercombed his curls to loose the tangles, Ardyn’s fingers slowed, stopped, before he came to a halt, head tilted back, staring into space, mouth part-open. He didn’t move, just sat there for a moment, before shifting and sliding sideways in the tub, landing flat on his back and struggling immediately to get up out of the last of the draining water, nails clawed against the porcelain.

\--

“Of course you didn’t,” Cor sighed. He should have expected it, after all these years, and it was good to see that even as sick as he was, Ardyn was still so much the same. Miserable, but still himself, despite the daemons and the blood and the blackouts.

Cor pushed himself up to sit on the edge again, pulled the plug on the tub to let it drain, and offered a hand to Ardyn. The other man had gone quiet, and he didn’t think too much of it for a moment, tried not to. Even when he shifted awkwardly, he tried to think at first that he might have just slipped, or maybe he was having one of his shorter episodes, the ones that only lasted a minute or so.

So, he stood, and reached out to take his arm and pull him towards him as he struggled. “Ardyn,” he said, gently, to soothe him or maybe call him back as he tried to coax him into his arms so he could get him in bed.

\--

Cor’s fingers wrapped around his upper arm and Ardyn went still before jerking away and back, elbow cracking loud on the porcelain rim, flattening himself against the curve at the end of the tub, knees drawn up toward his chest. He kept wrenching, trying to rip free of the other man’s grasp, teeth bared in a snarl. His eyes, wide, were black, the yellow rings of his irises near-glowing. When Cor didn’t let go of his arm, Ardyn lifted his left leg, uncaring of the grating pain, and kicked _hard_ at the other man’s face, heel impacting the soft tissue of his nose full-on and unguarded.

\--

Cor tensed the moment he felt Ardyn trying to jerk away. Though, not so much Ardyn as the daemons. He was used to it now, the way they’d started to rebel against him when he tried to use force to pull them away from a window or take away something they could use to hurt Ardyn or him or someone else. Like every other time, his eyes darkened, glowing yellow, and he snarled and pulled back. Cor just tugged harder in return, used to them eventually just giving in, and they lashed out so fast he didn’t even see it coming.

One moment he was pulling hard on Ardyn’s arm and the next, the foot was coming down, bare but still enough to hurt, slamming into his nose. He let go, falling backwards off the edge of the tub onto the tile floor, one hand darting to his face, the other steadying himself. When he drew it away, his nose was bleeding. He thought little of it, wiped the blood off on his naked thigh and righted himself again.

“Oh no you don’t,” he growled, and he hated that they’d used Ardyn’s bad leg because it was going to hurt like hell later. This time, he penned the other man in, significantly more wary and on his feet so he couldn’t be thrown down as easily, and he reached out to grab his wrist, ready to wrestle him out of the tub if he had to.

\--

Cor toppled backwards and Ardyn scrambled after him, trying to make a break for it but found his movement impeded by the very selfsame slippery porcelain that had knocked the Marshal flying. Unlike Cor, Ardyn wasn’t nearly as well-balanced, and went skittering left and right, naked elbows and knees catching on corners and tile.

When Cor came after him he started to back up immediately, trying to get away from the other man, eyes darting around. When Cor grabbed his wrist, though, Ardyn started to unintelligibly howl, scraping back at Cor’s arm with his nails, kicking and flailing like a fish out of water, screeching. As he started to get dragged forward, Ardyn wrenched back his bad leg again and kicked hard out at Cor’s face and accompanied it with a garbled shriek of, “No!”

\--

The daemons _screamed_ , a sound he was used to hearing from beasts in the night when he was out on the hunt, not the man he loved, in a bathtub still slick with water and ichor and dried blood. It was startling, but only in that aspect of it. They’d never _howled_ like that before, never lashed out, not like this, but he held strong even as they scratched at him, flailing and kicking.

When they kicked, this time, he was more ready, and he moved in closer, grabbed the other man’s thigh, his wrist in the other, and even if he lost his balance at least they would go down together. That shriek, that _word_ sent a shiver down his spine. If they were learning to speak, to use words… that was _not_ good, but he held on despite wrestling what was effectively hundreds of screeching daemons in a single man’s body. “ _Yes_.”

\--

Ardyn writhed, tearing and kicking with every free hand, nail, or foot he could get away. Cor had him pinned and there was nowhere to really go, nowhere to move, so all he could do was wrestle. Finally, though, he managed to jerk back and away from the other man, balled his body up, and tried to roll and launch to his feet, scrambling, sliding between Cor’s knees and trying to throw himself bodily out over the edge of the tub and to freedom.

\--

The other man writhed against him, wild and desperate, scraping at him with his nails, shoving back against him, resisting with every fibre of his body. He just barely managed to jerk away, launching himself down between Cor’s knees to try to escape, but Cor whirled and caught him as he came up on the other side, grabbed him with hardly a second thought, hauled him up, and forced him back into the tub. He wanted him out, yes, but he didn’t want him _loose._ If he was taking him to bed like this, better to carry him there, but with the state he was in, better to keep him in the close quarters of the tub, where he could corner him and pen him in, keep him from whatever he was so desperately trying to do.

\--

Cor was faster than the daemons, unsurprisingly, and before they could go far at all, one leg halfway out of the tub and scrambling on all fours, the other man locked his hand around Ardyn’s ankle and jerked him backwards.

Surprised, unprepared, Ardyn yelped in pain and his arms went out from under him. There was a single vertiginous moment, an unbalanced twist, and then his temple hit the hard porcelain edge of the tub with a crack.

Still.

\--

Cor expected resistance, expected to be fought back against, expected to have to wrestle him into the corner again until he had him pinned and could keep him there until he came back to himself but instead… it happened so fast he barely registered it at first. He watched Ardyn slip, twisting awkwardly. Watched as his temple came down on the edge of the tub, jerked at the crack that filled the silence.

Then he slumped downward. Quiet. Bleeding.

He hadn’t even realized he was gasping for breath until he caught himself a moment later, staring at Ardyn’s body. He was frozen, more shocked than anything, still tense from fighting. His nose burned. It was still dripping blood down his face. There were scratch marks on his arms and on his back that stung.

“Oh, no,” he muttered under his breath a moment later, expression softening as he realized what he’d done. Ardyn was… dead. Well… not really dead, he knew that, but…. Dead. Dead and Cor had been the one to….

He bent down, his breath shaking, and checked his pulse. That, too, was still, and Cor crouched over him, folded himself over Ardyn’s body, pressed his forehead to the other man’s bare shoulder. He cursed, quietly, to himself, shook and muttered, “Oh, no... no, no...” and then, when a few minutes had passed, took in a deep breath and sat on the edge of the tub.

He couldn’t let it get to him. He couldn’t afford to sit there in shock. Ardyn would… heal. It probably wouldn’t take too much longer. He didn’t know. It usually didn’t… it was hard to remember.

He looked at himself in the mirror, got his hand wet and wiped the blood away from his nose, got a cloth and returned to Ardyn’s side, gently cleaning the wound at his temple, wiping away more blood, trying to get it out of his hair. And then he lifted him, gently, into his arms, and carried him to the bed like that. He didn’t know what else he could do. He just set him down, to keep him comfortable, dried him off with a towel and then pressed it to his head wound, even as it started to knit back together, covered him with the blankets, and put on pants and a shirt, so that when Ardyn awoke, he wouldn’t see the scratches that marred Cor’s skin.

\--

He awoke, groggy and confused, sprawled in bed. Ardyn didn’t remember leaving the bathroom, and recognised his body well enough to know when he’d died. Groaning, he sat up, fingers pressed to his chest over the Armiger scar as he looked around until he located Cor, dressed properly again.

His nose looked rather battered, and his eyes were swollen. “Cor…?” He didn’t have to question what had happened. He could guess. “Your nose—” he hesitated, afraid for the moment to reach out and touch. “You. Did I do that? You should have a potion, something to take down the swelling. Is it broken?”

\--

When Ardyn stirred, Cor sat carefully on the edge of the bed and let out a slow breath when he spoke. He was himself again, at least, and he smiled a little at Ardyn’s immediate concern for his nose, instead of asking about, well… what had happened.

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “I slipped in the tub and hit it, that’s all. It was bleeding but I don’t think it’s broken, at least not too badly. I’ll take a potion for it, don’t worry. It’s nothing I’ve not dealt with before.” He reached out to take the other man’s hand, squeezing it gently in his own, to reassure him. “How do you feel? You slipped, too, and cracked your head on the edge of the tub. I just took you to bed so you would be comfortable when you woke up again.”

\--

For a moment, Ardyn knew almost with certainty that Cor was lying to him. _Knew_. Knew that Cor didn’t slip and bang his nose (how would you without hurting anything else?), knew he hadn’t slipped and hit his head. He didn’t remember anything at all but fuzziness and scrambling, and he had lied enough in his long life to know.

But instead Ardyn smiled. Pretended he didn’t know; pretended he’d fallen for it. He was a more than consummate actor. “Well,” he replied after a moment, “I’m more than fine, Marshal, you should know that. I’ve woken up far nicer places than a bathtub. I’m more worried about your nose. Here.” He sat up the rest of the way and hesitated before he leaned forward, reached for Cor’s nose. “Let me check and see if it’s broken. I’ll straighten it if it isn’t so it doesn’t heal crooked.”

\--

Ardyn smiled at him and Cor relaxed, taking that smile as acceptance of what he’d said. He remembered how upset Ardyn had been when Cor lied to him in the past, but… still. He didn’t want him to know about this. He didn’t want Ardyn to know that the daemons had hurt him, didn’t want him to leave because of it. He could take care of himself, had been for years. A bloody nose and a few scratches were nothing compared to what he’d been through. It wasn’t really… the same thing, but he tried to convince himself that didn’t matter.

“That’s true,” he muttered, watching him carefully as the other man sat up straighter. He did seem to be feeling okay, he usually was, after dying and coming back. Feeling better, even, than he had been all day. But as Ardyn reached for his nose, Cor suddenly barely heard the words he said, and all he remembered in that split second was the look in his dark, dark eyes as Cor tried to hold him down while Ardyn lashed out. He flinched, tense, and caught himself doing it, forced himself to relax. This was _Ardyn_ , not the daemons. And he was only trying to help.

\--

The moment Cor flinched away from him was the moment Ardyn knew that everything that he’d managed to salvage out of the burning dumpster fire that was his entire shitty life, from beginning to end, was gone. Even when he’d been at his worst, the monster who had killed Cor’s king and stolen his prince and razed his country to the ground, even when Cor had been yelling himself blue in the face and staring him down in anguish and fury. Even _then_ , he hadn’t flinched from Ardyn, be it out of courage or foolishness (or love,) he’d not backed down from a fight in his life. He’d never run from the Accursed or the Chancellor or just _Ardyn_ , had stood up to him and stared him down without a flicker of anything like fear.

Ardyn slowly lowered his hand, shaking. Composed himself and plastered his very best smile on, as fake as he suddenly felt like this temporary reprieve in his life was. “Ah...my hands are, of course, shaking, so perhaps not. I’d hate to leave you a crooked nose, Marshal. It would ruin the effect of your handsome face; only one half of a couple should be cursed with the crooked healed nose.” He ran his shaking fingers back through his hair, tried to compose himself. Failed.

Slid out of bed, because it was a little easier to run away.

“I’ll go get you a potion, my dear.”

\--

Cor wished Ardyn hadn’t seen him flinch like that. Wished he _hadn’t_ , and he hated that he’d reacted that way when he had no reason to (he didn’t… not right now). But he had. And Ardyn had noticed.

The other man lowered his hand and Cor let out a quiet breath. He said nothing for a long moment, because he’d known it would end up like this, and he wouldn’t have chosen anything differently, wouldn’t have asked Ardyn to leave if he could have gone back in time. He _wanted_ this. Wanted to give himself to the other man, no matter the cost, wanted to do everything he could.

“Right,” he said, quietly, when Ardyn stood. “I’ll just… fix it myself. It’s fine.”

When he went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror, he might have been surprised if he hadn’t seen that look in his own eyes years ago, after the fall of Insomnia. It was like he’d suddenly lost something all over again, and he could feel it like a fissure in his chest, running deep. But he would stay and see this through to the end, no matter what.

This was just how things were now. And how they were going to be.

\--

It was almost easier to just not touch Cor unless he did it first. After nearly a decade of being hands-on to the point of possible public indecency, stilling his wandering fingers was painfully difficult—

But Ardyn did it, because Cor was frightened, and he did not blame him in the slightest. Whatever the other man had seen in him the night of their anniversary, it had been the straw that broke the garula’s back. Cor was wary with him, now, even when Ardyn was himself. And when he came back from hours away, Cor was always hesitant, like a cornered animal locked in the same room as a predator.

Ardyn should have left.

_Should_ have.

(Selfish, selfish.)

Which was how, one night, he blinked his eyes open and found himself pinned on the floor, his shirt badly torn in a jagged gash over his chest, Cor half-kneeling over him, one hand balanced on the wall and the other pressed white-knuckled over—

Ardyn stared at his hands in mute horror and shock as he watched lines of blood, scarlet and red as his damn hair, drip down his fingers, palms, wrists, to his forearms, pooling at the bends of his elbows and soaking instantly into the cloth of his shirt. Clasped between his hands was the blade his brother had presented to him when he’d been no more than two-and-twenty, the sword that had been their father’s. _A King’s weapon_ , Izunia had said, and it had been the first into the Armiger, broad and with a hefty swing, meant for a man stronger physically than Ardyn was, and one his brother had consequently used more during their shared lifetimes.

And it was currently run up to the hilt through Marshal Cor Leonis’ stomach, just above his left hipbone.

\--

It wasn’t the first time he’d faced death.

He should have seen it coming, but even as wary as he was, even though he’d been afraid of this for nearly a year as he cared for Ardyn and wrestled with the daemons, he always thought that somehow, Ardyn would manage to stay their hands—that no matter what, Ardyn would never truly hurt him.

All the signs had been there. Ever since their last anniversary, months ago now, nearly a year, it had been so much of the same; and getting worse, always getting worse. The daemons learned to speak. They screamed at him when they broke free, and always multiple times during the day and the night, sometimes for hours on end. They learned to fight back, scratching and clawing at him, biting, lashing out with hands and feet, leaving bruises on his skin. He dismissed each and every one, excused them away, hid them from Ardyn, and even if the other man knew, he never said anything. They barely touched anymore. The kisses were few and far between, and always hesitant and fleeting, longing for something they knew they couldn’t have anymore; not when things were like this. Not when Ardyn was so sick and growing sicker. Not when he was hardly even himself any more, even at his best. Not when Cor knew that he could change at any moment. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

This time, too, had started out much like all the rest. The daemons howling filled the quiet apartment. They’d tried to break out the window for the hundredth time and Cor had held them back.

But this time was different. There was a flash of light, Ardyn’s body glowed red. He knew that glow anywhere. The Armiger, coming to life, and Ardyn drew his sword free of it, staring at Cor with his blank-dark eyes. Cor pulled his, however reluctantly, in return and it, too, appeared in a similar flash of red. The weight felt heavy in his hand. But even as he was, nearly fifty-two (and a heartbroken old fool) he fought, because he’d promised.

It didn’t last long. The daemons’ swings were wild and unpredictable, and Cor blocked and parried as they tried to corner him. There was murder in those dark eyes, and a wicked, bloodthirsty grin on Ardyn’s face unlike anything he’d seen there before. One parry, he carried through in another strike, assuming they would dodge but the daemons took the strike to the chest, howling, and despite the surprise and guilt as he saw the blood on the other man’s chest, there Cor saw his opportunity. He penned them in, drove in close, but as he pushed, the daemons pulled him down, and they fell together, Cor pinning him to the floor.

The blade piercing his gut felt a lot like the end of all things.

His sword fell from his fingers as he lurched, coughed, his eyes watering. He’d been hurt before, _stabbed_ before, nearly killed, but as he looked down and saw _Ardyn_ looking up at him, those soft amber eyes, instead of the terrible black ones, as he saw the look on the other man’s face, that made it all so much worse.

“I… did my best,” he got out, his voice sounding horribly strangled even to his own ears. With Ardyn looking at him like that, all he could think was… this was his own fault. If only… if only he’d been stronger. If only he’d been able to stop him, like he promised.

“I… failed.” The word trembled on his lips. He felt his arms struggling to hold his weight. His eyes stung with tears. He _always_ failed. Every time. Every _damn_ time. Why couldn’t he just do something right, for once, why couldn’t he just...

“I’m sorry.”

\--

Ardyn didn’t know where to look first. At the blade in his hands, at Cor’s face, at the gut wound he—Ardyn, daemons or not—had given him. “No,” his voice came out hoarse to his own ears, like he had been screaming. He didn’t remember screaming. “No, no, this isn’t—” this wasn’t Cor’s fault. He’d done nothing wrong.

Ardyn should never have stayed, was what he should never have done. There had never been any other way it could have ended. But Cor had begged. “You didn’t,” his voice cracked and the backs of his eyes burned.

In another lifetime Ardyn had been a healer, and he had seen men and women through the years with far worse injuries than this survive. But to do that, he couldn’t go into shock, panic, shut down. Instead, Ardyn shoved Cor to the floor, and Warped the blade away. The moment it was out of him, Ardyn tore his shirt off, bundled it up, and pressed it hard to the front of the injury, leaning his entire weight onto Cor’s stomach. “You’ll be fine,” he lied, hands shaking, not able to look the man in his frightfully blue eyes. “I should have thought of this, should have done something sooner. Oh, Cor—” Breathe. In. Out.

“Stay with me,” Ardyn pleaded, grasping the back of the other man’s neck. “You promised, Cor, you promised you’d not go first you _promised_. I have to—” His heart felt like lead, beating so fast it was like to burst out his throat. “Where’s a potion, where’s a phoenix down. I have to stop the bleeding—”

\--

Cor felt his entire body screaming, and at the same time, he knew he was in shock. He had to be. It was somewhere between pain and… nothing. He managed a weak smile as Ardyn tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault. Of course he thought that, but Cor knew, if he’d just been able to… if he’d been more like Clarus, more like Gladio, a _proper_ King’s Shield, maybe he could have saved Regis, been able to stop Ardyn before… _this_.

Breathing hurt. Ardyn pressed him to the floor, and he felt himself tensing, and then going limp, muscles burning, aching to rip the sword from his stomach. When it Warped away, though, it only grew worse as he bled, and he shook, but the pressure Ardyn put on the wound relieved the pain to some degree.

He heard his name on the other man’s lips, and even as he stared blankly at the ceiling, he lifted his hand and brought it to the side of his stomach, found Ardyn’s hand there and touched the back of it with his fingers. “I’ve… survived worse,” he gasped quietly. “I’m here.”

He tried to say: that he would stay no matter what, protect him from his own daemons to the very end, despite all of this, but it was too hard to get the words out. Answering his question was too hard, too, and after a moment of working his jaw and starting to see stars, he managed to say, “Monica,” quiet. He felt… bad. Wrong. His breathing was all off. It was starting to hurt more and more. He was having too much trouble focusing, seeing or comprehending anything. “I’m here,” he muttered again, as he felt himself fade and fade and fade…

The last thing he remembered was how warm Ardyn’s hand felt under his, and that he had to hold on, because he was Cor the Immortal, and if there was one promise to Ardyn he knew he could keep, even when he’d failed all else, it was to _live_.

\--

Cor couldn’t even look at him. The other man was staring blankly at the ceiling, shaking violently all over, and Ardyn put more pressure on his wound, cupped his cheek with his other hand. Cor’s blood was stark against his skin; he was pale and shaking, his tan shallow and ashen. The touch of his fingers against the back of Ardyn’s hand was trembling and worryingly weak, and Ardyn bit _hard_ on the inside of his cheek, until he tasted blood.

Stay focused. Stay focused. Don’t panic.

“You are,” Ardyn tried to promise the other man, his hands shaking. His tears felt hot and wet on the sides of his nose, tasted salty as they dripped over his lips. “You’re here, you are, just, you have to stay, Cor. Cor. Please, talk to me.” He didn’t know where the other man kept his traveling supplies, and to leave him unattended with a wound like the one he had would almost certainly lead to him bleeding out.

Ardyn had to do _something_. _Something_ , because Cor was going still and strange and cold under his hands, his head lolling on his neck, eyes rolling backwards. “No you fucking don’t,” he snarled, furious at himself, at Cor, at the fucking daemons, at _everything_. Livid that this entire situation had come down and ended the way he knew it would from the start. “If you die on me, Cor Leonis,” Ardyn snarled, throwing his shirt aside, crying helpless hot and ugly, dragging Cor’s up to his armpits over his unresisting unconscious body, “I’m _never_ going to forgive you, as long as I fucking live, you hear me?”

He took a deep breath, pressed his hand to Cor’s stomach, and exhaled.

His blade had missed anything terribly vital. He’d torn Cor’s intestines, and completely impaled one of his kidneys. That was useless, he couldn’t save that. He could, however, stop the bleeding. That was easy enough, dragging on the injured tissue in the other man’s body, knitting veins back together, sealing the tear in his intestines before it turned septic, counting each heartbeat he could feel against his lips and in the back of his throat.

Cor’s heart did beat. It beat. It did not _stop_ beating, as slow and weak as that may have been, as Ardyn stemmed the bleeding, and then rolled the other man onto his front. He couldn’t properly save his kidney, there wasn’t a safe way to remove it here in an apartment, and every second that Ardyn spent there was another second of danger for Cor, for everyone in Lestallum. So he did the next best thing, pulled Cor’s belt from the bedpost, and took his shirt to make a makeshift tourniquet, and strapped it around the Marshal’s side.

And then, sobbing and covered in Cor’s blood up past his elbows, Ardyn pounded on the wall that their apartment shared with Monica’s and howled, “Monica!” at the top of his lungs, holding back his need to hyperventilate like a fucking force of will. “Monica, please!”

The moment he heard her footsteps rushing over, Ardyn stumbled to his feet, balanced briefly against the wall, and in his exhaustion and fear and horror, toppled sideways into a teleport and—

Insomnia.

There was nobody living he could hurt in Insomnia.

There was nobody at all.

Ardyn Lucis Caelum sat down, hard, on the floor of the Citadel and cried, as, far above him, hanging from chains and ropes from the ceiling of the Lucian throne rome, the bodies of his sins swung back and forth as a macabre reminder that he should never, should _never_ , have opened the door to let Cor in.

\--

Cor awoke, dizzy and disoriented, in a small, cold bed in the Lestallum hospital.

He was in and out in a daze for weeks, they told him later. Monica was there, holding his hand, sometimes. The first time, it looked like she’d been crying, but after that, she always kept herself together.

The doctors told him it was a miracle he hadn’t bled out. They told him, he’d only sustained serious injury to one kidney that needed to be removed, and minor damage to his intestines. Even so, they seemed to think he should have died.

(But he hadn’t.)

Of course he hadn’t. He’d known he would cling to life, like he always did. And he suspected, too, surely correctly, that it was _Ardyn’s_ hand that had healed him, had begun to knit his arteries and organs together until Monica found him. Ardyn who had kept him from dying, after what the daemons had done.

Monica told him later that she’d come running when she heard Altum’s voice screaming for her, but when she got there, she had found only Cor, bleeding, with a makeshift tourniquet around his waist, and not a sign of the other man at all. Just his shirt, covered in Cor’s blood, and a smear of black ichor where Cor had pinned him to the wall.

When he was more coherent, she asked him what happened. He said nothing.

(When he was prompted again, later, he told her what was, effectively, the truth: Altum had completed the transformation brought on by the Scourge. He’d become a daemon.

He left the rest unsaid, but the implication was there. He would let her assume that he’d done what was necessary, and killed the man himself. Better that, than the truth. That would have been an easier, gentler death. That would have been preferable to what _had_ happened.)

It was weeks, again, before he was allowed to go home, and even then a nurse was to visit him every day, and then once a week, to ensure he was healing well. Monica insisted on moving in with him, and he let her. He had no reason to refuse—not anymore—and she always had been his closest friend.

He’d known the moment he woke up that Ardyn was gone. Of course he wouldn’t stay, not after that, and Cor wasn’t sure if he would have _wanted_ him to. What kind of relationship could they even _have_ , with that weight hanging over their heads, the unspoken knowledge of what had happened, of what Ardyn had done?

It was nearing what would have been their tenth anniversary the day Cor returned to his apartment. Monica had cleaned the blood off the floor. It was like nothing had happened at all, except that now she was there, and Ardyn was gone, and his whole life had come crumbling down around him. Again.

“Is this yours?” Monica asked, as Cor settled in. “I found it when I was cleaning up, but I don’t remember seeing it here before.”

The item she held up as Cor turned towards her was a hat. It was a black fedora with a brown band around it, old and beaten.

Ardyn’s.

Cor took it, turned it gently in his hands. “It was Altum’s,” he said slowly, and she quieted at that. Said nothing more.

(He couldn’t voice it out loud, but the hat wasn’t only a memento, kept to remember what they almost-could-have-had. It was a promise. Of course Ardyn would never text, never call, never come back—but if that hat was in Cor’s hands, it could only mean one thing.

Before it was all over, they would see each other again, even if it was only one last time.

It meant he still had a chance to say goodbye.)


	22. we should just kiss like real people do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I will miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [hozier's "like real people do"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrleydRwWms)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _why were you digging?_  
>  _what did you bury_  
>  _before those hands pulled me_  
>  _from the earth?_

Ardyn knew the exact moment that Noctis awoke, because where it hung suspended pendulously behind the throne, the Crystal _thrummed_ like a heartbeat, pulsing. It pierced like a sword through his breast, and Ardyn pressed his hand to the scar over his sternum, his breath caught in his lungs. Bahamut’s power resounded like a beat through the earth, demanding they all awake, that they all rise.

Noctis was awake. Like a pressure in Ardyn’s mind, there he was, awake. He wasn’t sure where—but he could guess. Two thousand years before, Ardyn had awoken from a sleep not unlike death, hands strung from the ceiling, legs tied and chained in an empty, cold cave. The gods were not like to change; for two thousand years was but a blink to them. They would certainly have no problem doing the same to Noctis that they had done to Ardyn.

Slowly, Ardyn slid down in the chair, his coat rucking up, his hair piling up behind his head. He dug his chin into his fist, narrowed his eyes, and debated. He could do nothing—let the daemons devour Noctis as they predictably would and wipe the Chosen King out before he ever became enough of an issue that Ardyn had to go get himself murdered for the world. He could simply wait there, and no doubt the situation would eventually resolve itself. He did not need to do so much as lift a finger.

Or, he could do what he _should_ do, and let the boy-king’s loyal retainers know he had returned, send him at least as a lamb to the slaughter with a handful of happy memories to sweeten his last few days.

Ardyn sunk his chin further to his chest, and closed his eyes.

Could, should, would—but none were _have_.

\--

Six months came and went with no sign of Ardyn. No texts, no hair left passive-aggressively on his shower walls, no gifts left haphazardly on tables, nothing. After _ten years_ together there was just… silence. Like all those years had been nothing but a series of fever dreams, hallucinations, like Ardyn had never been real at all.

There was only the hat, tucked into the back of Cor’s closet now, to prevent any unnecessary questions on the off chance someone else came to visit. That single unspoken promise.

Slowly, during that time, Cor recovered. It was nice, having Monica there to take care of him. He needed her presence and her doting more than he ever would have been willing to admit, as injured as he was, and with Ardyn gone. Still, it didn’t change the fact that the space next to him in bed at night was cold and empty, that too many times he found himself reaching in his sleep for someone who wasn’t there. Too many times, he was shaken awake by nightmares, about Lucis, about Regis—and worst of all, about _Ardyn_ , as he’d loved him, and Ardyn, when the daemons had taken him. After those dreams, he’d wake up shouting unintelligibly and in pain and Monica would come running, try to soothe him, but he never went back to sleep.

Almost ten years to the day since eternal night had settled over them, the nurse told Cor he was free to walk about, to leave the apartment if he wanted, as long as he didn’t do anything strenuous, and Monica decided a get-together was in order. Nothing large or fancy, just a couple of their closest friends. They would meet in Monica’s apartment, so Cor could get out of his own, and he liked the idea. He’d begun to hate those walls, that bed, the bath, the floor, the kitchen, the _memories_. Each and every one cut deep at his heart, the good ones most of all.

He needed to get out.

So, they gathered up Ignis, Prompto, Gladio, Iris, and Aranea, and the seven of them sat around to have coffee and tea and chat.

It was all mundane chatter. No one bothered him about his wound, asked how he was, or asked about Altum. All they wanted to hear were stories of his more distant past, his tales of heroics, and he laughed and told the same stories he always did. It was (more than anything) a nice change of pace from hurting and moping in bed.

\--

In the end, he had a responsibility.

In the end, Ardyn went. He went to Lestallum and stood, for a time, in the empty apartment that had-almost-been-his. Monica’s things now littered it, an extra bed pulled into the bedroom, one of her bras hanging off the bedpost. Pill bottles were stacked on Cor’s bedside table, and Ardyn read them with his glasses hung halfway off his nose, mouthing the complex names of the medications. Coagulants, to help him with his blood. Filtration for his missing kidney.

Pain medication.

Sleeping pills.

Antidepressants.

It left him far more shaken than he could ever articulate—to know that Cor had managed all his life relatively unharmed, had survived all the world had thrown at him, only to almost be taken down at _Ardyn’s hands_ , regardless of who and how the sword was wielded, left him feeling oddly carved apart inside. He had never meant for this to happen. But, of course, he had never meant for a great many things to happen. And there was little and less he could do for it now.

He felt stagnant, there. Caught in deep water, in an undertow. The daemons let him be, too disturbed by the space and the return to do more than mutter. At last, Ardyn tore himself away, fixed the Marshal’s disturbed bedclothes, straightened the kitchen. Plucked a strand of his hair, and lay it across the other man’s pillow.

And then he went digging. When he’d left he’d not even thought of it—he’d forgotten his hat there years before, as a sort of unspoken promise that he would be back even when months went by without a word. It was a promise, because he loved the damn hat, and he loved the damn Marshal, and where the two were together he’d be back eventually.

Ardyn took his hat, from deep inside Cor’s closet, tucked it into his coat, and then went following the sound of the other man’s deep, even voice—muffled by the apartment walls and still weak with months of disuse—to find where Cor, and likely the boy-king’s retainers, had gone.

\--

Iris had just finished telling a quick story about one of her recent solo hunts, and they were already begging Cor for another story. Whether it was to try to make him feel better or because he was a good story teller, he couldn’t say. He didn’t really think he was, but he did have plenty to tell, when asked.

He touched the scar on his throat, anything to distract from the still healing wound in his side. “Have I told you how I got this scar?” he asked, and when Iris and Prompto both shook their heads and leaned forward to listen while Monica and Ignis chatted quietly in the background, Cor began to regale them with the tale, Aranea and Gladio listening in interest as well.

He’d only just made it to the part where he was kidnapped by Niflheim soldiers when he slowed and… stopped. There was a sound that had caught his ears. Footsteps in the hall.

“Marshal?” Iris prompted gently after a moment. Cor was staring at his knees, eyes wide, breath caught, listening closely for that sound again.

He _knew_ those footsteps. He _knew_ that gait. He’d heard it, traipsing around his apartment every day for years, he knew it so well… but it couldn’t be. It was his mind playing tricks on him… or hallucinations, maybe his new sleeping meds were affecting him badly. Maybe…

But then, he lifted his head and looked towards the door, expression softening into a mix of hope and horrified realization. Everyone else in the room followed his gaze as Ardyn Izunia walked in.

\--

He only let his hand hover over the doorknob for a handful of breaths, because cowardice ill-became a man of his age, before Ardyn casually turned the knob and pushed the door open, let it swing wide and rebound gently off of the wall of Monica’s apartment. Inside sat the handful of men and women that had built up Cor’s family over the last ten years, sat in an array of shocked and terrified silence around Monica’s kitchen table.

Absolutely nobody moved, and he finally pressed his fingers to his breast and sighed dramatically, terribly hurt. “Well,” he said at last, voice cracking in his drama, “I see how it is. Throwing a party, and not inviting little old me? I’m afraid to say that I can’t think of a _single_ reason that you all could have to not want my presence. I promise you, I’m a very personable guest! People call me the life of the party.”

The shocked silence that had stunned the room broke, and Ardyn found himself facing Prompto, Ignis, Gladiolus, Aranea, and _Iris_ of all people with weapons drawn, pointing straight at him.

“Chancellor,” Ignis said, staring vaguely off into the distance, his mouth pinched in annoyance and pain, “Whatever did we do to be gifted with your... _exalted_ presence?”

“Oh,” Ardyn giggled in reply, studiously _not_ looking at Cor _not_ looking at him _he would not look at him_ , “You know me, my dear Ignis! Able to come and go as I please. I’d not looked in on you all in ten long, long years, I thought it was high time I paid you a visit. See how your eyes were doing. Have they improved?”

“Fuck off,” Gladio replied for Ignis. “Close the door, and fuck back off, or I’m taking your head from your shoulders again.”

Ardyn gasped, in mock-hurt. “Why, Gladio! I’ll have you know, attacking an unarmed man under a hospitable roof is _usually_ considered a faux pas!”

Iris, he noticed, blinked like someone had just slapped her. Oh, of course; she’d always been a little too bright for her own good (and he had, perhaps, always played a little too fast and loose with his inability to fight back for his own good.)

\--

Most of the others reacted immediately. That was to be expected, and Cor knew in the back of his head that he should have, too. Even injured, if he’d been more himself, he might have played along. But all he could do was stare.

He watched as Ardyn crossed the room, watched as he put on his usual dramatic charade, no hint of the daemons about him at all. He seemed, if anything, more himself than he’d been in the last year Cor had known him. Maybe living alone had done something good for him, strangely enough—or maybe it was just an act.

But he shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t _be_ there. It was a threat to himself, a threat to everyone there, a threat to Cor… and at the same time, it was the exact sort of thing Ardyn would decide to do. It was so unquestionably _him_ that Cor just felt himself floating in a kind of daze. He wanted to be angry with him for leaving, and he wanted to tell him he’d forgiven him for what he’d done, and he wanted to tell him he should _not_ be there and he should _leave_ , but when his lips parted to find words, none came out, they just worked soundlessly, and he felt the unmistakable clenching and thudding of his heart that was the feeling of falling in love all over again.

He could feel Monica’s eyes on him but he didn’t turn to look at her. She’d been suspicious of him for years. If everything was going to fall to pieces all over again, she might as well know the truth.

\--

Ardyn waltzed the rest of the way into Monica’s apartment, not flinching from the handful of deadly weapons a foot from his face, and casually took Aranea’s half-drunk coffee from the table, helped himself to drink out of it, pinky upraised and perfect and prim.

“Why,” said Prompto, “Are _you_ here?”

Ardyn giggled again. “What, can I not want to come and visit? I thought, after ten years ago, we were all on what you might call at least _relatively_ good terms?” Nobody even bothered to play with that, and he sighed, finished Aranea’s coffee. “What, Commodore, not even you? And here I thought we were friends.”

“You,” she told him, “can fuck off.”

Fair.

“Fine.” Ardyn brushed imaginary dust off of his chest. “There’s no need to bristle at me like I’ll try and stab anyone; I’m perfectly harmless, I swear—with allowances being made for the Oracle’s _untimely_ death, of course, but you know how hands do slip. I’m merely here to deliver a message to you all, one I really do think you’d like to know. But...if you’re going to treat me like some sort of a _pariah_ I’ll certainly be on my way whence I came rather than cluttering up dear Ms. Elshett’s apartment any further.”

\--

True to himself, Ardyn mostly ignored the drawn weapons, drank Aranea’s coffee, and didn’t answer Prompto’s question directly. He took the roundabout route, acting all offended, laid back, too dramatic for his own good.

Cor had missed him. Missed him so, _so_ much, even after the horror of the past year, even after dealing with the daemons, and nearly being killed. He noticed that Ardyn was not looking at him. He would have thought the man was ignoring him because he didn’t care, but he knew him too well. Ardyn wasn’t there for him. He knew that. Ardyn was there for some other reason, to see the rest of them. And Cor was sure that Ardyn was trying to keep his distance, to keep him safe, and to keep from having to deal with that pain. He was running away, like he’d done when they met, like he always did.

Finally, spurred by distant memories of their early days together, when Ardyn had come to him rattling off similar vague sentences about the Prince, Cor found his words. “What is it?” he asked quietly, and with a more subdued, gentle, but firm interest than anyone else might have asked it, though he suspected he already knew.

It was about Noctis. It had to be. That was the only reason Ardyn would have dared to show his face like this.

\--

“Why,” Ardyn continued, gently placing down Monica’s mug, “I’d almost think you were all hoping to never hear anything again of—”

When Cor spoke to him, he stilled, like he was deep water and Cor’s voice had just tossed in a stone. His fingers, still wrapped around the handle of the mug, trembled, and the porcelain rattled against the saucer.

He didn’t need to breathe, but it still caught and suspended in his lungs, and he had to hold back a quiet noise of pain at the way Cor sounded. His voice had dropped further, husky and raw with recovering illness, firm as he always was with Ardyn, knowing. It was nearly a whisper.

He let go of the cup, rather than betray himself any further, and turned to face the other man.

He looked tired. The circles under his eyes were grey, his tan skin pale still, tight around and over his cheekbones. _You’ve lost weight_ , Ardyn wanted to say, like that wasn’t obvious, or _you need to sleep more_ , like he’d never been told that in Cor’s murmured whispers at half-past-two, tangled with their ankles nudging in bed.

His hair was too long; he needed it cut. His beard was too ragged; it was getting rangy. His skin hung loose from his neck, and he looked at Ardyn like he was the worst—best—most terrible—thing he’d ever seen. Ardyn felt his smile falter, his mask cracked in twain for just a moment, before it was back, before he clenched and reigned and _breathed_ and fought back the almost overwhelming urge to beg the man for how he was.

He was leaving.

(Better not.)

“Your Prince,” Ardyn began, and then, hesitated, not looking away from Cor’s eyes, so fucking bright fucking blue against his wan face, so bright they could have lit up the sky better than the sun and stars, “No, perhaps it is high time I said your _King_ , is awake. I thought,” he continued, tearing his eyes away from the Marshal’s face, to look at the boys (men, now) who stared back at him in a mix of horror and awe, “You might want to know. It’s dangerous out there, for a man who knows not what he is soon to be facing. It’s not _my_ job to tell you what to do, of course, but should you want to rescue him...well,” Ardyn paused, hand to his breast, and sketched a short bow, “You certainly now know what to do.”

He winked at the boys.

“I’ll see you soon enough, I’m sure.”

And then, nonchalantly as he’d entered, Ardyn walked back out of Monica’s apartment, and out of all their lives, and shut the door behind him with a _click._

\--

When Ardyn turned to face him and their eyes met, Cor couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He stared into those bright amber eyes, as unreadable as ever. Ardyn was _his_ mess of daemon and man, the sun to his sky, his light in the darkness. But in that shared look, he could feel how far Ardyn had drifted away from him these past six months. He could feel the distance between them like a weight, heavy on his chest. Ardyn looked the same, on the outside, his glamour carefully kept, but he could see in those eyes and that twitch of his smile that Ardyn was feeling the depth of what they’d lost just as heavily as Cor was, if not more. The guilt, he was sure, was too much for the other man to bear. He wanted to tell him that he was _okay_. Not _well,_ but surviving. He wanted to tell him that he missed him, that the ache of not having him there was like missing a limb. Maybe worse. But he couldn’t say that. Not there.

It was about Noctis, as he’d thought, and maybe Noctis was everyone else’s King but not Cor’s. He might have said that aloud, too, if he’d thought it would bring him anything but trouble. Noctis was still important to him, though. Still the boy he considered to be his nephew. Still the last of the line of Lucian Kings. He had a duty to fulfil, but Cor had no desire to be there when he arrived. Let him be with his friends, as he should be.

And that meant, too, that Ardyn’s final days were upon them. They’d waited so long… so long, for this. Ardyn turned to leave and Cor let out a shaky breath. “Wait,” he croaked, “Wait.” But Ardyn didn’t wait.

Cor stood as Ignis’s phone rang, and that broke the stunned silence of the room. He could hear the other man pick it up as he turned and threw the door open, ran out into the hall. He was already gone, long gone, back to Insomnia, back to the Citadel, but he had to check, he had to know _one thing_.

He could hear Monica, behind him, calling his name, her voice laced with confusion and underlying anger because she’d figured it out and she knew he’d been lying for _years_ , but he couldn’t afford the time to sit down and explain it all to her. The clock was ticking. Noctis was back and he didn’t have any time _left_.

Ignoring the ache in his side, his hands shock as he unlocked the door to his own apartment and pushed his way in, raced to his room, to his closet, shoved aside shirts and trousers to get to where he kept the hat, reaching for it.

It was gone.

“Shit,” Cor breathed. “ _Shit_.” And he could hear the commotion through the wall, in Monica’s apartment, voices and the shuffling of feet.

Grabbing one small bag, he started to throw a few things into it. His meds, one change of clothes. There was a single red strand of hair on his pillow and he almost broke down when he saw it, but left it where it was. Took some food from the kitchen and slung the bag over his shoulder. No one tried to stop him. He doubted any of them thought he would actually leave, but he still made haste. He knew what he had to do. He, too, had a duty to fulfil before it was all over.

He practically ran down the steps, gripping his side, until he reached the garage, strapped his pack to the back of his motorcycle and started it up. He’d not technically been cleared to drive yet. He didn’t care. It was a long way to Insomnia and he didn’t intend to stop until he reached the steps of the Citadel.

\--

He’d expected Noctis and his entourage to arrive as of the instant they had the opportunity to. Wasting no time going to the gallows; the hopefulness of youth and the ideals that perhaps this time before all others they could find a solution that ended not in spilt blood. He _expected_ Noctis to meet death as an old friend, as Ardyn was ready to, sooner rather than later.

Instead, when Ardyn felt the presence of a living thing crowding the Insomnian streets, it was not four little boys hardly old enough to bleed for war, let alone die hung and kicking on the gallows.

It was old, and tired, and worn, and hopeless.

It was Cor.

\--

He’d sped past the enormous daemons scattered about the streets of Insomnia so fast they hardly had time to lash out. He didn’t have time for them, not now, though he noted they _were_ larger and more plentiful since the last time he’d been to the city, ages ago, when he’d come charging in, heartbroken and angry and wanting answers. This time, he didn’t know _what_ he wanted, but he knew he had to be there. It was closure that he wanted, maybe. Something that would feel like a more fitting end than Ardyn leaving a room full of him and his friends with too much unsaid between them.

Eventually, he pulled to a stop in front of the Citadel, stared up at the towering building. Ardyn was up there. Most likely, the other man knew Cor was there, too. He’d be waiting.

So, Cor parked the bike somewhere out of sight and climbed the steps. It hadn’t changed, still those same empty halls, his footsteps echoing eerily across the floor.

He took the elevator to the throne room, following the same path he knew Noctis would soon take. But he’d made it there first. He didn’t know how much time he had. Not much. But enough to talk to him, this one last time.

When he entered the throne room, he stopped at the far end. His gaze fell first on Ardyn, seated on the throne, as he’d expected he would be. And from there, he looked up, a cold chill going down his spine. Those were.. bodies. Luna… Nyx Ulric… Regis. Was this what Ardyn had been doing all those months he’d been away? Was this what had shaken him so, the night he came back covered in blood?

Cor let out a slow breath. He didn’t have any room in himself any more to be angry, or appalled, or feel anything other than that distant shock. It was another sight to urge Noctis on to do his duty. Terrible, yes, but he’d known Ardyn for too long, still hated everything he’d done, but accepted them. This, too, he had no choice but to accept, with bitter reluctance and a bad taste in his mouth.

But as his gaze drifted back down to the man on the throne, words failed him. It felt different, here, in the throne room, his King preparing to die by Noctis’s hand, those bodies hanging above and the gulf between them too wide.

He shouldn’t have come.

Still, he felt that it was right, to be there. That because he had come to the throne room, while the darkness of night still hung, he wouldn’t have any regrets when it finally lifted.

\--

Before him stood the Marshal of Lucis, Cor the Immortal, Cor the _Foolish_ , as if he had come bearing gifts and not the shattered last gasp of a broken heart. He looked—

He looked very much like himself. As he always had. But scared. Frightened, perhaps, at the first realisation of the fact that what Ardyn had become was what he always had been. That he’d signed away his humanity in blood and water and wine long before Cor had ever been born.

“Why,” said the Accursed, the Fallen Chosen King of Light, the man who in another lifetime and another Insomnia had been known by the name _Ardyn Lucis Caelum_ before the Starscourge had blackened his blood, who had built the throne upon which he now sat, who had cast the stone that had started the avalanche that had brought them all _here_ , to the endless dark sky, and the promise, the trade—

Two more lives hung yet in the balance. The scales were equal. Upon one was Ardyn’s old, black, too-small heart, and upon the other was Noctis’ hopes and dreams for the future, and neither pan could tilt without chaos.

The only zero-sum game that remained open to them was the removal of both, and to cast the scales aside wholesale.

Ardyn closed his eyes.

“Why are you here?” He sat atop the empty throne, above him hanging the bodies of the vainglorious dead, cheek upon his fist, amber eyes narrowed. “Why have you come here, Cor Leonis?” After the other man didn’t reply, Ardyn pushed himself to his feet, hands clawed on the arms of the throne as the Crystal pulsed behind him, Bahamut a whisper and murmur like a curse tied around his heart. “Why did you bring your corpse to stand before me?” His footsteps were slow. (Years before, he had climbed these stairs the opposite way, when Regis had sat the throne with full knowledge of what was coming, what was going to end the day, the bodies and corpses that would join his strewn on the Citadel floor. Years before, when he had still worn a mask and lied between his teeth about his past and the names that were sewn into his skin like murderous secrets.) “What do you think you’re going to _do_ here, Cor?” Ardyn stopped before him on the landing, one hand gracelessly draped over the banister.

He paused.

Took one step further down.

“Cor,” Ardyn said, his voice soft and low and as deadly as a hissing snake, “Did you come here to _die_?”

\--

Cor watched the other man stand. Watched him descend the steps one by one, tired and broken and weary of living. He watched his bright amber eyes, hardened in their determination, in resolution. He listened to his words, but he couldn’t find the answers to his questions, not yet.

Even as Ardyn strode down to the landing and they stared at each other, Cor stayed where he was, though every inch of him ached to go to the other man, to fall to his knees for him, to beg for any sort of absolution, _something_. But he still found himself frozen, his side throbbing with a dull aching pain that he ignored, because this question was important, and he knew he had to answer.

“If I could be granted one wish,” he said quietly. “It would be to walk into death with you.” Yes, that was it… what he’d wanted for years. “But the curse of living has always been my burden. I doubt that will change.” He let out a slow, shaky sigh. “So, I came here because… because it’s my duty to stand by you. I wanted to be here, with you, at the end. And,” he paused, because it was getting harder and harder to admit that this was the end. “I wanted to say goodbye. As much as it hurts, I couldn’t let… this…” he touched his side, gently, where the sword had struck him, “be the end of us.”

\--

Ardyn closed his eyes, and turned his face away from the other man. “Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “Cor, I—” He pressed his hand to his breast, took a shaking breath. “You said goodbye a great many years ago,” he managed at last, his face composed, his expression masked, his façade as chill as iron. “There’s no need to come here and do it again.” Ardyn took the rest of the stairs down, and stopped on the very final step.

He could not bring himself to get any closer to the other man, or surely, he’d shatter apart down the centre.

“I am not Regis,” he said at last, staring the other man dead in the eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. You’ve never had any _duty_ to me, Cor. Never, and you never _shall_. You’re mortal, Marshal. And mortal you’ll remain, regardless of whose bodies litter these steps at the end of the day.”

He shook his head, and turned his back on the other man, looked at the throne. Waiting for him.

“Go home,” Ardyn said, not believing the words even as he spoke. “Go home and mourn me if you would insist upon it. I can stop you no longer. But don’t fucking do it while my heart still remains whole in my chest and where I have to watch.”

\--

Ardyn was trying hard to keep his composure, to hold it all in. That was obvious enough. Maybe it was for the best, like that, but he still didn’t want to accept it. He just stood there, tired and drained, as he watched Ardyn come down the steps to the last, staring at him. It was for the best that they kept their distance, too, but he didn’t want to. Wished he could will himself to move closer anyway, but he just… couldn’t. It would be too much. They both knew that.

“I know,” he muttered, when Ardyn repeated his usual refrain, that he wasn’t Regis, that Cor had no real duty to him. “It was not so much a duty required of me...as something I had wanted for myself. You know all I’ve wanted these past years was to stand beside you. You know that, Ardyn, and still, you won’t let me. It has nothing to do with owing you anything, and everything to do with knowing that this is my place. This is where I _want_ to be.” And no amount of Ardyn telling him to leave would change that. “You’re still here, for just a little while longer. Let me stay, Ardyn. Or are you going to cast me out, just like that, like I’m nothing, because it’s _easier_? Are you just going to run away from me again, like you always do? Like you have since your daemons gave me this wound, because you didn’t want to face the truth?”

\--

Ardyn was shaking before Cor ever even finished talking, and ground his teeth until his skull hurt, pressed one hand to his temple as he shook, daemons clawing at the back of his mind. “Then why did you _really_ come here, Cor? Did you think that I would just _agree_?”

He rounded on the other man, cheeks flushed with fury, as his patience snapped. “Did you come here,” Ardyn hissed, his voice raising with each word, “To fight in my name, Cor? To win me but five minutes longer? Did you come here,” he took another step down, back to the last step, “To take up arms in the name of your King?” He took the last step, until they stood at the same height on the floor. “Did you come here to _guard me_ , like you couldn’t guard Regis, be a last bastion between me and death?” Another step closer. “Did you forget, Marshal, why I’m here?”

Ardyn threw his hand around, to the empty expanse of Insomnia.

“Did you _conveniently forget,_ ” Ardyn snapped, his voice loud enough now that it echoed around the empty room, bouncing back off of dead bodies and rubble, “That this is my graveyard? Did you _forget_ , Cor, that the last thing I want is five more minutes of life? _I came here to die,_ Cor!” He stopped just before the other man, their noses almost touching. “Not to have you show up and play war hero, when you’re so injured you can _hardly stand!_ ”

\--

He let Ardyn round on him, let him shout, let him snap, and growl and accuse. And then he said, evenly, voice grating, his side throbbing so hard he gripped it tight in his hand, “I didn’t… forget. I didn’t forget that, _Ardyn_. I just…” He let out a slow breath through his teeth. Shook. “I just wanted to be with you, I just wanted to see you, one last time, is that so hard to accept? I would never…” Though admittedly he… he would have. He would have fought Noctis for Ardyn. Would have protected him. Wanted to, to keep him safe, deep in his chest, because it was what he’d been trained to do, and he _loved_ Ardyn. But he knew logically that he couldn’t do that.

It was hard, it had always been a difficult notion to accept, but he’d _promised_ he would let Ardyn go when the time came, and he was ready to do that just… not under the circumstances they’d parted on.

“I would never rob you of your rest,” he finished. “I promised you that, and I meant it. I _missed_ you, that was all. I know we couldn’t live together, not like that, I know we couldn’t have what we had before, I know you came here to die, I just wanted…” He searched for words as he stared into his eyes. They were closer than they’d been in months but he still couldn’t bring himself to close the distance between them. “I don’t know,” he said, quiet, frustrated. “I don’t even want an apology for what you did, I just want to be here, with you, until Noctis arrives, but maybe even that is too much to ask from you at this point.” He shook his head a little. Ardyn was a mess of daemons, angry, desperate to die. Cor knew that all too well. “So throw me out, if you want to be alone so much. But nothing you say will convince me to leave until then.”

\--

Cor couldn’t deny it, but the pain in his voice dampened the fury that still pounded in Ardyn’s overtired heartbeat. “Cor,” he murmured, stepping slightly closer to the other man, hesitant. He reached out, fingers shaking, for the cuff of the other man’s jacket.

It was ragged, with years of use, and he’d lost so much weight it hung awkwardly around the skin of his wrist. “I’m sorry,” he said at last, voice no louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry—I should have left sooner. I should have left when it started. I should have known it would get that bad. At least here there’s…nobody I can actually hurt.”

He laughed, pained.

“My dear Marshal,” Ardyn hesitated, wet his lips, “Have you considered I did not...Cor, I _do not_ want you to remember me like this. I don’t want the last thing you have of me to be me half-dead and consumed by horror and darkness. I want…” he let go of Cor’s sleeve, his hand falling back to his side. “Please leave,” his voice cracked again, too much emotion bottled up against the back of his throat. “Please go home, Cor. Please, love. Please go home and just—think about. Me, as me. And not as the Accursed. If nothing I say will make you leave, then leave for this,” he looked up, their eyes met.

“I have been a ghost all my life. Spare me that fate at least from you. Forget this too-solid flesh, and remember happiness. I cannot bear you to see what I will have to become for Noctis to do away with me.” They both knew all too well that for Noctis to end him, he’d have to become the very thing he’d professed to be all along, regardless of the damage it did to him.

\--

He could feel what little warmth the other man had left as he moved closer, took the cuff of his jacket in trembling fingers. Ardyn said his name, then, so softly Cor wanted nothing more than to melt against him, but didn’t.

Ardyn apologized, and Cor suddenly found that he couldn’t meet his eyes. “Perhaps so,” he muttered, though Ardyn had the right of it. When he laughed, Cor looked up at him again, his shoulders slumping, tired. Ardyn all but begged for him to leave, for him to hang onto something good to remember him by, and Cor’s heart ached in his chest.

He watched those desperate amber eyes, eyes he’d seen so full of love, even now, as Ardyn looked at him. Finally, he lifted one hand, and touched the other man’s cheek, felt his thin, pale skin cool against his palm. “Do you really think,” he muttered, with just a sliver of a smile on his lips, “I’d let myself remember anything other than the very best of you? When I think of you, I will always remember the years of my life when I was happiest. Our years in that apartment together, when everything still felt right, _that’s_ what I’ll remember. Never the Accursed. Just the Ardyn I loved.”

He ran his thumb along his cheekbone, sighed quietly, and pulled his hand away. “I just don’t want to leave you alone. I don’t want to leave you at all.” There were almost tears in his eyes, and he leaned forward to kiss the corner of the man’s lips, and at long last, let himself slump forward against him, just for one moment. “You’re right. I don’t want to be here. I couldn’t bear to watch the two of you fight, when Noctis arrives, but… I can’t turn my back on you, either. I just can’t.”

\--

When Cor reached for him, cupped his cheek, Ardyn shut his eyes and forced himself to breathe evenly, to not tilt into the other man’s hand, to _not cry._ He kept the tears at bay, but failed to not turn into the other man’s touch, to not open to Cor’s affection like a flower toward the sun, to bask in the heat and warmth of it. It had been—so long it felt like—too long—

When Cor spoke of loving Ardyn in past-tense, with the knowledge that the Ardyn he’d been was dead now, scooped out of him, shattered what little composure he had left, and he dropped his chin to his chest and broke down into silent, shuddering tears.

Let Cor kiss him, knowing it would taste of salt and anguish and hopeless fucking suicidal desperation.

“I know,” Ardyn managed, his voice cracking as he giggled, exhausted and mournful and ragged. He grasped Cor’s hand in his, nails digging into the flesh of his palm. “You never have, Cor.”

It was all right.

He took that last half-step forward, pressed his forehead against the dip of the Marshal’s shoulder, tucked his forehead into his collar, nose crumbled against the cloth, and cried into the cloth so, at least, it would be muffled. So Cor wouldn’t have to watch him finally break down.

“How is your side?” Ardyn asked at last, when his voice had stopped shaking, and he wasn’t crying. He just inhaled Cor’s scent, tried to memorise it, impress it on his mind, so he wouldn’t lose it. He didn’t have long left—it wasn’t hard to keep it for just a few hours more. He’d be able to remember Cor’s voice, his scent, the feel of him. The little low sound his voice made when it caught low in his throat on the _d_ in Ardyn’s name.

\--

He hadn’t expected Ardyn to lean so easily into his touch, to crumple against him, his shoulders shaking as he cried into Cor’s shoulder. But he must have been holding it in for so long, Cor just sighed quietly and held his hand, wrapped his other arm around him and hugged him tight.

Maybe this was what he’d come to Insomnia for: to lay all their emotions bare, as much as it hurt, so that when they parted, he wouldn’t have to live the rest of his life wondering whether Ardyn had cared at all in the end. Because...

Of course he did. The sliver of him, the pieces of what was left of the man he’d loved, would always care, just as Cor would always care about him, no matter how out of reach he was.

After a little while, Ardyn stopped crying, stopped shaking, just stayed close, and Cor smiled a little at the question. “It’s all right,” he muttered. “No serious damage, just a lost kidney, and I didn’t really need that one anyway.” He let out a quiet breath that was supposed to be a snort at his own joke, even if it wasn’t all that funny. “The doctors said it was some kind of miracle I didn’t bleed out. Almost like someone… started to knit me back together before that could happen.” He paused, and pressed his face into the other man’s hair, like he used to. “It saved my life.”

\--

Cor pulled him closer, and Ardyn, as much as he knew he had to pull away—couldn’t. “No,” he murmured, “I suppose you do only need the one.” There was time, to just stay there, letting Cor almost make him believe that the world wasn’t waiting for him. “I wonder who could have done that?” Ardyn mused, trailing his fingers over the other man’s waist for just a moment. He couldn’t feel the scars through his shirt and jacket, but he could guess about where they were. “A mystery for the ages, I suppose.”

Ardyn hesitated, and reluctantly pulled back from the other man, leaned back in Cor’s hold, and looked at him. _Really_ looked at him, for what would probably be the last time.

Ardyn smiled, cupped the other man’s cheeks, and leaned forward to kiss him one last time, gently, between his eyes. “Goodbye, Marshal,” he murmured, lips shaking. “And thank you.”

He caught Cor just under the arms as his knees gave out, Ardyn’s Sleep spell taking hold and dropping him like a stone. Ardyn followed him down to the ground, taking his weight until he landed on his knees on the marble of the floor, ignoring the pain of it in his hip, and curled around the other man’s limp body, fingers scraping through the short hair at the nape of his neck, his face mashed into Ardyn’s thighs.

The last thing Ardyn whispered to him was hardly a breath over the shell of his ear—

“I will miss you.”


	23. remember me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [machinae supremacy's "remember me"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VDXf56s87U)

The sun rose.

It broke the horizon, slowly, and spread across the sky, the endless night unraveling behind it like a thousand old scarves, stretched worn and thin. The light it cast was damn near blinding after ten years of darkness.

Cor Leonis blinked his blue eyes open as the sunlight touched his eyelids, to find himself in his room in the Citadel, sunlight streaming bright through the nearby window.

For a moment, he felt that he was waking from a distant dream, but then he felt the twinge in his side, his wound aching, and put one hand to his chest. Ardyn’s hat was resting there, placed gently upon him as he slept.

So, then. It was done.

As they’d said goodbye, Ardyn had put him to sleep, left him there. He thought he might try something like that, but still, with so little warning… _bastard_. Cor cursed him quietly under his breath, shaking his head, but his fingers were trembling. He pushed up onto one elbow, still clutching his hat. Then he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood.

It was still quiet in the Citadel, even stranger now with the sun shining down than it was in the shadows and the dark. His feet carried him first to the throne room, where he assumed they’d fought, but the room was empty, aside from one. Noctis, on the throne, struck through with his father’s sword and pinned there, his chin pressed to his chest, hair fallen down around his face.

Cor took in the sight for a long moment, then climbed the steps, one by one, took the sword by the hilt and pulled it free, watched as it disintegrated in his hand into blue light and fragments like stars. He pushed the other man’s hair from his face, closed his eyes, but he couldn’t bear to take him from the throne.

“Noct,” he muttered, shuddering. He was so much older now, but it was clear, too, that ten years in Bahamut’s embrace had taken its toll on him. “You did so well.” He leaned down, kissed his forehead. Noctis was not his King but he _was_ the world’s King, and he’d done his duty, done everything required of him and more. “Your father would have been so proud.” His voice trembled as he said it, but he was sure Noctis knew.

He stepped back respectfully, bowed, as was polite. Then he left the throne room behind, took the elevator down, and moved in a daze to the front steps. The others were there, in the courtyard. Ignis, Prompto, Gladio, all laying motionless, too, their lives spent to protect their King, and he took them in his arms one by one, closed their eyes, laid them out beside each other, their hands folded over their chests.

He did not cry.

After all, he still had one other to find, and it took him some time, and a wide walk around to the side of the Citadel’s courtyard to find the place he and Noctis had fought among the wreckage, out the side of the throne room to the pavement below.

He was there. Cor noticed him at once, laying on his back, face upturned towards the sun, as if he, in his last moments, had turned toward it for one final glimpse of light. His eyes were closed, and there was a more peaceful smile on his lips than Cor had ever seen there before, looking ten years younger than he had in anguish in life. Cor felt all his energy and all the tension leaving him as he neared, until he was beside him, and he knelt at his King’s side without feeling himself do it, still clutching the other man’s hat.

For a long moment, Cor stayed there, unmoving, saying nothing, his mind blank with grief. With trembling fingers, he eventually reached out and combed his fingers through the other man’s red hair, still slick and matted with sweat and blood, until it lay free of knots. He was filthy, a mess, and Cor wiped some of the dirt and blood off of his cold cheeks. And then, finally, at last, he cried.

It was the slow, quiet, miserable cry of a man who had lived through far too much. A man who had gained and lost in equal turn at every stage of his whole life. But it wasn’t just that—he cried because it was finally over. He cried in relief for his King, and the people of the world who would be able to live on because he and Noctis had given up themselves. Even if—Cor was going to miss him like nothing else, like a hole in his chest, Ardyn would finally be able to _rest_ , and he looked so peaceful, so _happy_.

As his tears dripped onto the other man’s face, streaking dirt across his cheeks, Cor leaned down and kissed his lips, slow and gentle, one last time. He was already cold. “Wait for me,” he whispered, fingers tangled one last time in the other man’s hair, and then he forced himself away and dried his tears, because the more he lingered, the harder it was going to be, the wound festering.

He would get others out to the city, and Ardyn and Noctis would be buried, as they should be, with the Lucian Kings, the other boys nearby, with their families. Even Prompto would have his place among the royal retainers. He’d more than earned it. And he would help those who remained to rebuild. Because if he was to be cursed with life, he was going to do something with it.

Cor reached for his phone, dialed a familiar number, and held it to his ear, listened to it ring through. When Monica picked up, shock lacing her voice, and too many questions between them, he gripped the brim of Ardyn’s hat tighter in his fingers like he could draw strength from it, and took a deep, shuddering breath. Steeled himself.

“Monica,” he said, voice heavy and wet and hoarse from crying. “They did it.” He paused and stared up at the towering Citadel, the warm light of the sun reflecting off it, stark against the blue sky. And he remembered thinking that Ardyn had been like his sun, all through that dark night, and even now, glowing like an ember in the first light of his new world. The warmth almost felt like his smile, and there were hot tears running down Cor’s cheeks again as he smiled, too.

“It’s dawn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _stay with me,_
> 
> _in this moment i remain in your arms,_
> 
> _in your memories and dreams_
> 
> _will you wake up and still_
> 
> _remember me?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> the end...?


	24. epilogue: we'll set a fire once more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your Majesty.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Marshal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this epilogue is proceeded by [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10746588) and [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10776654).
> 
> title from [coheed and cambria's "2's my favorite 1"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggtg1eawMY4)

The rest of Cor’s life was full and well-lived. It was the life that would have been expected of anyone called ‘The Immortal’ in their better years. There were no Kings with Noctis gone, but councils and elected officials ruled Lucis instead. Cor moved back to Insomnia and held a position on the council for some time, and he regaled them with his own memories of Ardyn Lucis Caelum, who he was, why he’d done the things he’d done. He worked with historians, to correct texts. He worked with painters, to construct more accurate images of him. Though it had never been his true calling, the life of a politician and scholar suited him, for a time. It meant that he could ensure Ardyn was remembered as Cor knew him, as a true Lucian King, and not just as the Accursed, the name he’d always hated. Though he didn’t want the terrible things he’d done to be entirely forgotten, he wanted everyone to understand _why_ they had been done.

He dated a painter, a man named Atticus, who was flamboyant and kind and had long red hair. He dated another man, a year later, a red-headed politician who had recently been elected to the council, and he was blunt and conniving, but he had a good heart. There was a smattering of others, each of them almost (but not-quite-enough) like Ardyn. They kept him happy for a time, but when mourning and memories and deep depression rose up in him again, they always parted ways.

After ten years, when they were both old and greying and Cor’s work with the historians was nearly as complete as it would ever be, and his term on the council was spent, Monica insisted that they move in together again, as they’d lived for a few months before the sun rose. Better to grow old and die with your friend, she told him, than to die alone. Besides, they both knew it wouldn’t be long before Cor was beyond the point of being able to care for himself anymore. So, they lived together, and a few years after that, they married, simply for the convenience and the joy it brought to their friends.

There was, of course, the ever-present reminder of Ardyn’s car parked in the driveway of their home in Insomnia, a car that Cor hardly ever used but took extensive care of, because it was all he had left of what might have been. He and Monica didn’t talk about it much, and he only told her years later what it meant, that he and Ardyn had been married, too, sort of, and the discussion ended before it could begin. She always knew what he wanted, what he missed, and supported him despite his inability to ever really let the other man go. And the two of them were happy enough, as happiness went.

When he was ninety-six years old, Monica passed away of illness, and it was only six months later that he, too, was on his deathbed. He pushed away doctors who insisted they could cure him, help him live longer. He was old and tired and it was time. He wanted to die in the comfort of his own bed, with his family gathered around him.

And they were there, Iris and Myra and Talcott, and some of their children, who Cor had always considered to be his grandchildren. He even had great-grandchildren, though none of them were in attendance. But it was Iris and Myra he’d always been closest to. Iris, because she was like a daughter to him, and because she’d known Ardyn, even if she knew him as Altum, and Myra, because she was the closest they’d ever come to having a child of their own, and when he told her of her _other_ father, and how he’d saved her life, she’d embraced it quietly and never spoken ill of him.

Dying was a haze of memories, the journey of his life. Regis, their travels, the wars, Niflheim, the everlasting darkness. Ardyn. The dawn.

“The hat,” he croaked, and reached out with gnarled fingers and looked at his children with half-blind eyes. Iris brought it to him. The old black fedora, long hung at the back of his closet, in hopes it would make it easier to move on. He knew now, even after more than forty years, he’d never really moved on. He’d taken it out again after Monica’s death, imagined it still carried the other man’s scent, and Iris pressed it into his hands when he asked. Cor held it against his chest, over his heart, relaxing as he closed his eyes, and let himself drift.

It was like falling asleep. The stillness came for him.

Then, he was standing, and he could see clearly again. His back no longer ached, his limbs felt as strong as they had when he was fifty years younger. He held Ardyn’s hat in one hand as he stared up at the looming gates of the Citadel, but not exactly the ones from his later life, the ones he had walked through to work or the better part of those last fifty years. They were the ones he remembered from before the darkness, and everything was shining bright and beautiful. He folded up the hat, tucked it inside his jacket, and strode forward.

There, to greet him at the gate, stood Regis, warm eyes twinkling, a smile on his face. “Cor,” he said, stopping him before Cor went into a bow. “You know that isn’t necessary. Not here. Not anymore.” He took his hand, instead, the gentle touch of an old friend, and led him through. “You took your time. We’ve been waiting for you, you know. But one more than most.”

Cor straightened at that. “Where is he?” he asked, and Regis laughed at his eagerness.

“You’ll see him,” he promised, though his gaze drifted towards the Citadel.

Others came out to greet him. Cid. Weskham. Clarus. And the five old friends hugged each other tight, Cor pressed happily between them. He saw Noctis and Luna, smiling and radiant, and he saw Prompto, and Ignis, and Gladio. Monica was there, too, and she hugged him briefly and promised they would talk later. A smattering of others greeted him, old friends from his days as a soldier, family members, hunters, Crownsguard members who’d loved and respected him. One by one, they hugged him, then ushered him towards the Citadel. He stared up at it, the building that had been a central part of his life. No matter what he did, he always ended up back there.

“The throne room,” Regis told him, with a grin and a wink. “You should head there.” He patted Cor affectionately on the back, more affection than he’d ever shown in life, and he felt a little like a teenager again, even though he felt more like he was somewhere in his forties. And then Regis returned to Clarus, the two of them whispering to each other as Cor mounted the steps of the Citadel and went inside.

\--

“[You’re a coward,]” Izunia said, standing at the foot of the steps to the throne in the Citadel, his brawny arms crossed over his broad chest, his thick dark hair haloed with light from the high windows. Ardyn glowered down at his brother from where he was sprawled bonelessly in the throne, his sandalled feet thrown out before him, the leather of the sole half-turned over against the marble flooring, his toga and tunic puddled beneath him and hanging in heavy loops of wool between his half-bent knees.

Cheek shoved against his fist, chin pressed to his chest, his curls mussed about his head, Ardyn scowled back at his brother.

“[Are you just going to sit in here and sulk?]” Izunia continued, unabated, walking up to the base of the stairs, setting one foot up on the bottom step. “[You’ve been waiting for him for almost fifty years. Go _see him._ ]”

“[You,]” Ardyn glared, “[Are the _last_ person who gets to lecture me about this.]” Izunia made a face, but did not debate the point. Smart bastard. Ardyn waved his free hand. “[If he wants me, he’ll come get me.]”

How could he even be sure? Cor had found other men in their forty years apart; had married Monica for her companionship. He had done as Ardyn had asked (begged, ordered) and moved on. But had it been moved on for the time he had as a mortal, or was it for good? Cor hadn’t known there was anything awaiting him, any sort of Astral realm beyond the pale of Eos. He’d thought that was all. And after what Ardyn had done, what he’d become, after the way they’d parted—

“[I wish you could hear yourself.]” Izunia shook his head. “[You talk as if you’ve not been pining for him for a lifetime.]”

“[I’ve been pining many lifetimes, brother. There’s no difference now.]” Ardyn pushed himself to his feet, his toga falling in stiff, starched loops to lay properly folded. “[I have learned patience, which you clearly never did.]” He paused. “[Unless you’re going to start trying to convince me that you’ve suddenly become worthy of anything other than my scorn—]”

His brother had half-opened his mouth to respond, his sky-blue eyes angrily narrowed, when the door to the throne room pushed open with hesitance, and Ardyn’s hand, holding up the loops of his toga, slumped, fell. His fingers shook and trembled.

Izunia, who knew when he was unwanted, left while the going was good, and melted out of the throne room as quickly as he had come, so that Ardyn was left with the man who stood just before the doors, that swung shut with a whisper and a _thud_ , until they were alone.

\--

The Citadel was as populated as it had been in his younger years. It seemed to be a central hub of activity, a far cry from the desolate remains the last time he’d climbed those steps and taken that elevator up to see his King, forty years ago now, in life. No one stopped him as he made his way to the throne room and pushed open the heavy doors.

He strode through them, this time not in desperation and grief, but with a different kind of purpose, a different kind of longing, seeking the man he’d parted ways with in that very room, so long ago. It was brighter, now, than it had been then, or at least it seemed that way. Bright and warm and welcoming like even the Citadel itself had been waiting for him to come home.

As the door closed behind him, he looked up the steps, up to the throne, and hesitated.

Ardyn was there. And it _was_ , him, though different than Cor remembered him. He looked… younger, his hair longer, his face softer, and he was dressed in long wool layers, not like anything Cor had ever seen him in.

As he looked up at him, all his fears came rushing back, all the worry he’d held since they’d last seen each other, in life, that here, in this shining Afterlife, Ardyn would have forgotten him, didn’t need or want him anymore. But Ardyn was staring at him, too, so Cor strode hopefully forward and stopped at the foot of the steps.

Words wouldn’t come to him, all of them failed as soon as they touched his lips. Instead, he eased himself down on one knee, eyes wide because Ardyn was so beautiful he couldn’t even begin to tell him how _much_ , and he was afraid to try when he worried the man hardly cared what he thought. He dipped his head, after a moment, out of respect, if nothing else, and finally got out the only two words he could manage. “Your Majesty.”

\--

His heart was beating so fast and so loud he could hear it, the echoes deep in his inner ears. Cor was staring up at him with wide eyes, stunned into silence, as motionless as the stone upon which he stood. He looked—the same. The same as Ardyn remembered him, perhaps a handful of years younger, the grey just beginning to force its way into actual visibility in his short, dark hair. He managed to radiate being tired despite being as well as he was ever like to be.

Cor was staring up at him, unable to look away, and if Ardyn had been younger, perhaps, he would have flushed. Instead, he curled the fingers of his hand against his breast, knuckles pressed to the dip over his sternum, and stared back at the other man, as if challenging him. He set his other hand against the curving banister and paused there, one foot on the next step down, patient, waiting. There were not even forty stairs between them, but the gulf felt miles wide.

And then Cor kneeled, and Ardyn felt his own knees shake and tremble, his weight almost collapsing them under him as his heart fell straight through his stomach and to the floor. Cor bowed his head, and without those too-clear eyes to pin him like a butterfly to a board, Ardyn’s feet carried him down first one step, then five, until he stood on the first landing.

This close, he could see the powerful muscles visible under Cor’s shirt and jacket, the spread of his hands not yet liver-spotted, the tension that marred the nearly-perfect curves of his neck and side. “Marshal,” he replied, steady-on, a smile curling the edge of his mouth—so little had changed.

He took that next step down, and paused with one foot still behind him on the landing. Close. So close. “You always were a patient one, Marshal, but even I did not expect forty years. I suppose that they call you _the Immortal_ for a reason.”

\--

His heart was pounding in his chest as he knelt, staring down at the floor, each breath deep and shaky, nervous. He didn’t even know how to go about properly greeting the man he’d longed for night after night, with forty years between them.

He could hear Ardyn’s sandals on the stairs as he came down, and he felt frozen in place, and at the same time, he was _so close_ , if he could just stand up, climb the stairs, take him into his arms… he was right there, it would be so easy.

When the King said his title, a title that had become more of a fond nickname in their years together, Cor looked up at him again. He was standing on the landing, watching him, almost challenging him to come closer.

“I kept you waiting,” he said slowly, after a moment. “There was nothing I wanted more than to join you, but I had a lot to get done.” He smiled a little. “Forgive me.”

Then he got to his feet again, as slowly as he’d knelt, and began to climb the steps to meet him. When they stood close enough that he could have reached out and touched him, he offered his hand, hesitant, scared, just to be sure it was all right. “I’ve missed you. But if it’s been too long, I’d understand...” Forty years apart was far longer than the time they’d spent together. He’d been married to Monica longer than he’d been with Ardyn, but he still always thought, _hoped_ , that if things had been different, they would have spent their lives together, and the Afterlife, too.

\--

Cor looked up at him, challenging Ardyn to come down closer, to meet him halfway in the middle. He couldn’t have moved if he wanted to, frozen, wordless and terrified and _overwhelmed_ and the happiest he could remember being in.

So long.

When the other man asked for forgiveness, Ardyn smiled, indulgent and affectionate. “I could never find it in me to deny you anything, Marshal,” he murmured it but in the empty throne room the whisper carried. “Not even forgiveness. There’s no need to apologise.” Cor stood, hesitant, and moved up to meet him in the middle with as much hesitance as Ardyn himself felt, the same strange held breath suspended before both of them. Waiting. _Waiting_.

Ardyn took one step down, and for each step down Cor took a step up, until they were one step apart. Ardyn looked down at the other man, at the lines beside his eyes and mouth, the grey flecking his beard and at his temples.

“Why so old?” He asked at last, fingers curled in the wool hem of his toga, gold threads digging sharp into the insides of his fingers, not able to look away from the other man’s face. They were so close that Ardyn could smell the scent of his skin and hair and sweat, could feel Cor’s breath on his skin. “I had thought—you would be younger.” Ardyn was. Much younger. “From before Insomnia fell. Not…” he hesitated.

Was this—forty seven? Forty eight?

The age Cor had been when they had been together.

“The age you were after you had lost everything.”

\--

One step above him, leaning over him, Ardyn didn’t so much answer Cor’s unspoken question as ask one of his own. Typical of him. But this close, when he looked up at his face, he could truly see how much younger Ardyn was now, his face soft and full, a far cry from the gaunt, almost skeletal man he’d known, all sharp bone and grease and dirt and regret. He seemed now like… the Ardyn Cor had seen beneath all of that, an Ardyn from before the daemons filled his head and robbed him of himself.

“Ah,” he said, thoughtfully, to the question, curled his fingers, tilted his head. He’d not thought about it much himself yet, but the answer was an easy enough one to find, and he smiled as he realized it, glanced down as he found the words. “It’s true, I was happy in my younger years, and it’s also true, at that time in my life, I felt that I had lost everything when Insomnia fell. But then…” He looked back at Ardyn, into his bright, amber eyes. “I found you.” He smiled wider, warmer. “And those years we spent together, despite everything… they were my happiest.”

\--

Ardyn didn’t know what he was expecting.

It was...not that.

“ _Cor_ ,” he breathed as all the air went out of him like he’d been punched, his fingers shaking on the banister. He let go of his toga, let it fall, uncaring of the mess or the weight on the back of his neck. “Cor,” Ardyn said again, this time a little louder, a little closer to the top of his throat, the other man’s name rolling off his tongue like it was pulled free of the soul of him.

He lifted a shaking hand, fingers trembling. Brushed the lapel of the other man’s coat, touched the side of his neck, and stopped so close to Cor’s cheek he could feel the heat of his skin and the brush of his stubble.

He would not cry, but it was a near thing. Too near a thing.

“Cor,” Ardyn murmured with finality, flattened his hand over the other man’s cheek, fingers curled around the broad expanse of the back of his neck, and pulled him up, and closer, and nearer—and kissed him.

\--

Ardyn whispered his name like it had been punched out of him, and he looked shocked and touched and so hopelessly in love Cor _ached_ for him. He was almost shaking when Ardyn said it again, reverently, and he shuddered and reached for him as Ardyn’s hand touched his coat, his neck, his cheek, warm fingers on his skin. He leaned into that touch without even thinking about it, closed his eyes, and when he felt him shift closer, curled his fingers into the other man’s tunic, tugged on it gently.

He could feel the rush of heat between them as their lips met and held his breath, tilted his head and leaned up into him, parted his lips for him, and let out a quiet, desperate sound, his fingers trembling as they curled tighter into the cloth. He almost felt like he might cry, but no tears touched his eyes, there was just the tightness in his chest, the shuddering breath, the overwhelming emotion that made his heart feel so full it might burst.

“I _missed you_ ,” he whispered. “Ardyn.” He tried to pull him closer, kiss him harder, but in the end he just bent down and got one arm under the other man’s knees, scooping him off the step and into his arms, against his chest. He wobbled on the step for a moment once he had him, breaking their kiss to steady himself, and blinked in confusion. He was… _heavy_ , so much heavier than Cor remembered him being, and all he could think was, he actually felt like he _should_ , all healthy weight, and he shifted his grip, held him close, and let out a quiet breath, smiling as he started to carry him back up the steps, slowly and carefully.

\--

Cor whined into his mouth like Ardyn had cut right through him with a knife to bare the other man’s heart, pained and open and raw like an unbound wound. It was a _good_ sound; a sound he had missed, and Ardyn giggled, curled his fingers tighter into Cor’s short hair, grabbed for the slope of his shoulder with his other hand, leaned over and into him to let Cor take his weight, for more leverage, to bite hard at Cor’s lower lip, relishing in the way it swelled between his teeth, the sharp tang of blood, Cor’s fingers tangled white-knuckled in the wool of his tunic.

“Here I am,” he laughed, breathless and pleased, as Cor said his name in return, surging into the other man as Cor pulled him closer, dragged him down. “I missed you, Cor, I missed you, I missed you _so_ —”

And then Cor grabbed him around the waist and under his knees, and with a startled yelp, hauled Ardyn up into his arms. And.

Very nearly toppled over, breaking their kiss and blinking in wordless confusion, staring at Ardyn in bemusement. His yelp turned into a giggle, turned into breathless, cackling laughter as Cor tried to rebalance under his weight, his face pressed into his Marshal’s shoulder and collar and lapel, fingers trailing over the thin scar on his throat, down the sparse hairs visible over his shirt collar, tugging on the cotton and carbon-fibre armour he wore beneath. “Did you,” Ardyn wheezed, his cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling, his lips parted and stuck to his teeth, “Just almost _drop_ me, Marshal Leonis? I could have you _executed_ for that.” Admittedly, Ardyn was younger like this, in his thirties, before the Scourge had robbed him of his weight and his good health and his supple skin and the lustre of his hair, let him still have proper fat on his bones, his waist soft and his thighs wide enough that they brushed together, his upper arms as wide as his calves. So, if Cor had expected him as he’d been, all skin and bones and half his body turned to dust and shadow, no _wonder_ he had been surprised to pick Ardyn up and find that they were now, like as not, almost the exact same weight.

\--

Cor laughed breathlessly when Ardyn cackled with glee. “Executed?” he echoed, smiling. “Well, I’ll have to be more careful then.” And he was, keeping him close and balanced, taking the steps at his own pace. “You’re so much different than you used to be. Different but… the same. More beautiful. Radiant. I just… wasn’t expecting it.” Without the damage done by the scourge and the daemons, he was absolutely gorgeous, and Cor pressed their foreheads together, kissed him again, and the other man’s lips were soft and warm. He could feel how much fuller he was beneath his clothes now that he was holding him, and he wanted to get his hands beneath them, feel his skin, feel every inch of him as he was now, as he was meant to be, without the scars and the ichor.

When he reached the top step, he stopped before the throne, leaned down and set Ardyn into it. “Your Majesty,” he muttered, weaving his fingers into his hair, pulling him back for another kiss. “The throne suits you.”

\--

“ _Very_ careful,” Ardyn agreed, trailing his fingers lower, tracing and trying to catch the springy curls of Cor’s chesthair. “Haven’t you heard? The first king of Lucis was a fickle man, prone to bouts of wild ill-temper. You’ll have to tread lightly around him. Never know when he could turn to madness.”

When Cor interrupted to call him _radiant_ , Ardyn flushed as red as his hair, his high, freckled cheekbones burning. He was glad Cor couldn’t see his face until he’d schooled his expression back to studied neutrality and arrogance, his forearms draped over Cor’s shoulders as the other man set him back down in the throne, Ardyn’s toga sliding free and off of his shoulders because of the friction to lay in thick folds over the insides of his elbows, the strap-sleeve of one side of his tunic following it to trail over his bicep, revealing the supple curve of his shoulder and the sharp lines of his collarbones.

He tilted his legs to the side, half-draped over the arms of the throne, to give Cor room to kneel at his feet, pulling the other man down and over him by the arms looped around his neck, palms sliding under his shirt, over the knife-sharp arcs of his shoulder blades, the indents of his vertebrae, the powerful sculpts of his trapezius. “I should hope so,” Ardyn murmured into Cor’s lips, biting them again, trying to make them swell red and wet with his kisses. “It _was_ built for me, after all. Why do you think the upholstery is _red_?”

\--

Cor laughed quietly and leaned over him, one hand balancing on the arm of the throne, and he pressed one knee against the seat, effectively pinning the other man in as Ardyn’s warm palms slid down his back, feeling at his muscles. He nipped back at his mouth when Ardyn bit at his lips, and as he sank down and got more comfortable, brought his hand to that exposed shoulder, ran his thumb along his collarbone, then slid his palm down along his bicep to the inside of his elbow, letting out a shuddering breath all the way.

He was right about the throne, but he wasn’t interested in that nearly as much anymore, not after touching his skin and feeling how soft it was beneath his hand. It made him want to touch the rest of him even more, and he leaned in to press their faces together, to keep kissing him as he brushed his fingers down along the cloth over his chest.

He’d never seen anyone wearing clothing like this except in history books, but he liked it. Liked it very much. Quietly, his fingers found their way down to the hem of his tunic, and he slid them beneath, up the inside of his bare thigh, through the soft hairs there. His other hand, he combed through his sleek red curls to the slope of his neck, then coaxed the cloth off of his other shoulder, too, and curled his fingers around his upper arm, marveling at the fact that his hand didn’t even fit all the way around it anymore.

\--

Cor ignored him completely, used as he was to Ardyn’s incoherent rambling, his posturing. Instead, the other man dragged his hand down Ardyn’s exposed shoulder, over his bicep to his elbow, the sensitive skin there goosepimpling at the flush of heat and chill that followed that touch. Ardyn muffled a giggle against Cor’s lips, tilted up into the other man where he was pinned down.

It was all too late that he realised Cor had taken advantage of his upraised legs, the short hem of his tunic, and slid his hand up underneath it, fingers skimming up the insides of his thighs, nails making goosepimples there as well, up to where his thighs pressed together, pulling at the thick hair at the nape of Ardyn’s neck, tugging the other side of his tunic down to feel the soft width of his arm. “ _Marshal_ ,” Ardyn whispered, scandalised, even as he willingly spread his legs for the other man, sliding further back on the throne so that Cor could get further over him, hitching his knees up so that his tunic slid up the rest of the way to bunch around his waist even as the loops and folds of his toga fell down to tangle at his ankles and feet.

\--

Ardyn said his title, scandalized and affronted, and Cor snorted at him and smiled. “What?” he asked quietly. “It’s been forty years, and I don’t hear you complaining.” Ardyn shifted, too, into his touch, and Cor answered, leaning more over him, kneeling half on the seat, and he coaxed Ardyn’s legs around his waist as the other man spread them for him, watching with raised eyebrows as his already short tunic slid up almost to his hips, the cloth of the toga sliding off his shoulder, pooling around his feet.

He sucked in a short breath, let go of his arm and pressed both hands to the insides of his thighs, slid them upward. “I _like_ this,” he whispered, “do you dress like this all the time now?” He couldn’t help himself, Ardyn wasn’t wearing anything at all underneath those cloth layers, and he nudged at the side of his dick with the backs of his fingers, ran them through the curls between his legs. His other hand, he slid up further, running his thumb across the soft skin at the joint of his hip, then up his side, pushing his tunic even further up. He had weight around his waist and middle, too, and Cor could already feel himself distracted, wanting.

“You’re so _beautiful_ ,” he breathed. “Every inch of you is warm and soft, you look so healthy now, so _good_.” His voice nearly cracked with emotion as he said it and touched him, felt him. “Never for an instant these past forty years did I stop loving you, not once, but I never thought…” he paused, swallowed, leaned in to kiss him again. “I never thought I could want you more than I did then, but I do now.”

\--

Ardyn huffed, distracted by Cor sliding hands up his thighs, parting his legs, rucking his tunic up and knocking his toga the rest of the way to the floor. “Of course I dress in proper clothes now,” he replied to the other man, fumbling with Cor’s jacket until it came off, tossing it to the floor below them, a puddle of darker black against the gloss of the marble. “I’m not a fucking _barbarian_ , Cor. Only heathens wear trousers.” When Cor nudged at his dick Ardyn made a quiet noise, and murmured his name, a half-whisper, parting his thighs further to give the other man room to work. Cor brushed over the place where the scar on his thigh had been, up to his hips and waist, all rounded with fat coated soft over his too-sharp bones.

The next thing Cor said, though, made Ardyn flush just as dark as he had earlier, but this time he couldn’t hide in Cor’s shirt, he just had to own it, his chin sunk down against his chest and his pulse pounding high in his throat.

He had been so frightened that even if Cor had still loved him, he wouldn’t _want_ him. After all—Ardyn was younger. And fatter. And not at all really much like he’d been at the end of everything. The only two people he’d seen Cor get flustered over were himself, half-dead, and Regis, who was thin as a damn rail. He hadn’t been sure. But, as it turned out—that was. Wrong. Very wrong.

Ardyn pulled his hands out from inside Cor’s shirt and started fumbling with his belt, scooting further back in the throne to give the other man room to move. “Yes,” he said, abruptly, pulling Cor the rest of the way over him. “Yes, please, right now. It’s high time someone fucked on this horrid thing anyway and it may as well be _me_ that ruins the sanctity of it.”

\--

He supposed, giving the other man’s history, these being his preferred clothes made sense, but he still snorted a little when Ardyn said only heathens wore trousers, and refrained from pointing out that Ardyn had worn trousers in all the years Cor knew him. He liked these, though, liked how easy it was to get his hands beneath them, and he sighed at the quiet noises Ardyn made as he touched him, the way he parted his legs further, his skin flushed nearly as dark as his hair, bright red and beautiful.

Ardyn had already coaxed Cor’s jacket off but he shifted suddenly and started messing with his belt, and Cor moved forward when he gave him more room, leaned down over him, and settled between his legs, tangled his fingers back into his hair and kissed him again. “You want me to fuck you _here_ , on the throne?” he wheezed, even though it was him who’d started it, he’d never meant to… not that he was complaining too much, he was hard and settling in closer and there was still a shiver of heat up his spine whenever he looked down and thought about how naked Ardyn was under his clothes, how warm his skin was, how easy it would be. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised at all at the other man’s sudden desperation, either.

“You always were a royal slut,” he sighed after a moment, half-laughed and grinned again, getting his fly open and shoving his trousers down his hips. “Maybe it’s fitting.”

\--

“Why not,” Ardyn shot back, his cheeks flushed with arousal, his lips parted, panting. “The throne fucked me, after all. I may as well get my comeuppance and fuck it in turn.” He giggled, shoved the fingers of his free hand into his mouth and started sucking on his fingertips, tongue darting between his knuckles, moaning quietly.

It wasn’t hard to win Cor over.

He didn’t even have to do anything. The other man just undid his fly, pulled his belt open, and shoved his trousers down, Ardyn’s fingers hooking into his boxers and pulling them along with it, peeling his erection free, half-hard and dark and just slightly damp at the tip.

“Play nice, Marshal,” Ardyn cooed, getting his hand on Cor’s cock, stroking it from base to tip, sliding his slick hand down to jack himself gently, twice. “I mean,” Ardyn said, his voice getting hoarse, catching in his throat, “If we’re going to do this, of course, we should do this _properly_. So do you want to fuck my ass, or do you want to just grind our cocks together like we’re both fifteen and then come on my face?”

_Oh_ , he had not had nearly enough fun the last few years. He’d missed this.

\--

Cor almost laughed, about the throne, but then Ardyn was sucking seductively on his fingers and his bubbling laugh dissolved into a quiet wheeze and a wanting smile. The other man’s moan made his cock throb and Ardyn helped him get his trousers the rest of the way off, pushing his boxers down, and Cor let them fall around his ankles and shook them off, then slid one knee back onto the seat of the throne again, grabbing his King’s gorgeous soft thighs and pulling him closer.

“Never in your life have you wanted me to play nice,” he muttered, but he took in a shaky breath as the other man’s fingers stroked Cor’s length, and then his own. He smoothed his palms over the other man’s thighs, squeezed them in his hands, delighted at how round they were now. Trailing the fingers of one hand up the inside, he pressed his thumb to the base of the other man’s cock, rubbed at it gently, up the underside.

“Both,” he admitted, when Ardyn gave him the choice. He wanted Ardyn’s thighs around his hips, but the idea of the their cocks alongside each other, and the idea of getting his dick in him after so long… they both left him aching. He leaned into kiss him again, biting at his lips. It had been too long, so many years, he’d missed this more than anything in the world.

“Let me feel my cock against yours first. And then we’ll see.” He grinned against his lips. “We do have all the time in the world now, after all. We can go as fast or as slow as we want to, and if you’re begging to have my dick in you after two minutes, well…”

\--

“Not true,” Ardyn murmured back, digging his blunt nails into the arcs of Cor’s trapezius, scraping them to leave welts along his spine. “You giving me what I want is _technically_ playing nice. Indulge me, Marshal, and stop playing _hard to get_.” To coax him into doing something, anything, whatever he wanted, Ardyn locked his legs around Cor’s waist, knees resting on top of his hipbones, his heels digging into the other man’s ass, thighs tight and pale against Cor’s tan skin. They were wider than Cor’s thighs, now—fat and soft with cellulite and stretch marks.

“Cor,” Ardyn whined, frustrated, impatient, and _needy_. “Ravus is fucking sixteen and I’m not seducing a teenager and the only other person who has so much as _looked_ at me like they wanted a hand on my dick in the last forty _years_ is my _brother!_ ” He punctuated that final statement by grabbing the front of Cor’s collar, hauling him down, and biting _hard_ on his lower lip. “If you’re going to talk shit I’m going to make _you_ sit in the throne and I’m going to just ride your dick until I break the gods-damn thing in half.”

\--

“Mm, I suppose,” he muttered, leaning further over the other man as Ardyn’s fingers dug into his back, nails scraping at his skin as he dragged them down, and Cor shuddered. And then Ardyn got his legs around his waist, dragging the two of them close and Cor swallowed hard and pulled him over until their hips were aligned, their cocks nearly brushing.

And then Ardyn was whining at him and Cor ground his teeth when he mentioned his brother, cut off from making any threatening remarks as Ardyn dragged him down by his collar and bit down on his lip, and he was desperate and practically begging, words pouring out of his mouth, frustrated and impatient.

Cor groaned at the threat of being pushed into the throne and ridden like mad, but he liked Ardyn beneath him, wanted to fuck him, so he grabbed both their erections in the palm of his hand, squeezed them together, slid his palm up their lengths to grind their heads together and gasped. He was practically kneeling on the throne, too, leaning over him with the two of them shoved together like that, and he grabbed the other man’s hair again, pulled on it and bit back at his mouth, shoved his tongue in and kissed him deep, jerking his hips against Ardyn’s to roll them closer together. Forty years without anything, just waiting for him, Gods above, the man was going to make him lose his mind and he didn’t want it any other way.

\--

Cor kept groaning into his mouth, and Ardyn dug his nails into the soft flesh at the back of the other man’s neck until he could feel the skin break and bleed, bit at his lip again. Fortunately, Cor finally—finally!—got the message, and grabbed their cocks in his broad palm, Ardyn’s softer hands fitting in around his callouses and filling up the empty space so that they were tight together, gripping one another, heads grinding together as Cor thrust his longer dick in and out of their grips.

Ardyn hissed, pleased, between his teeth as Cor dragged on his hair and pulled just as hard on the other man’s collar in return, stretching out the cotton of his shirt as he got an elbow under himself and sat up, back into Cor’s personal space.

“ _Cor_ ,” Ardyn whined into his mouth between kisses, their swollen lips brushing one another, clawing at his neck, shoulder, back, cheek, rolling his hips up with one foot balanced on the arm of the throne so that their erections twisted together, slick precum spooling down on his bared stomach, dripping over the rolls of fat at his waist and hips to drip down into his pubic hair. “Come on, Marshal, you can do better than _that_ , can’t you? Or have you finally lost your touch after all these years?”

\--

Ardyn’s nails bit into his skin, and Cor groaned at the feeling as he dragged them along his neck and back, panting into his mouth. Then the other man took their cocks in hand, too, and Cor thrust into their palms, his cock sliding along Ardyn’s as they rubbed them together until they were both leaking, spilling precum over each other and their hands and Ardyn’s stomach.

And still, Ardyn dragged him closer, whined, begged for more. It still wasn’t _enough_. The other man leaned up so they were closer, and he was still pulling hard on the collar of Cor’s shirt, dragging him down further and further, clawing at his skin, trying to wedge the two of them together.

“You,” he growled when the other man goaded him, “are such a damn slut, I forgot what a pain in the ass you are as soon as you open your mouth.” But he responded to his demands, squeezed and twisted the heads of their cocks together until he was panting and his tendons strained, pulled hard on the other man’s hair to drag his head back and leaned in to bite down on the side of his neck, sucking bruises into his skin.

“You can’t even let me take my time, you have to be _difficult_ ,” he continued, let go of his hair to suck on his fingers for a moment, then reached around where their hips met to squeeze one cheek of his ass, spread them, and press one finger against his hole, twisting it into him.

\--

Ardyn practically cackled at Cor’s words, scraped his teeth over the other man’s lip again. “Oh, Marshal, it’s almost like you _missed me!_ ” It was rare Cor got that snarky with him, unless he really had been more emotional than he wanted to let on. They were both so hard, so close, that it took almost nothing at all to get going, grasping and clawing and Ardyn mewling hot and wanting into Cor’s open mouth, scrambling for a hold on the throne, on Cor’s skin, on anything at all.

“I let you take your time coming back to me,” Ardyn snapped back, panting. “You took fifty years, Cor, what kind of a wait is that, and now you’re complaining at me that I won’t let you take your time, when I’ve been patient for _fifty years_?” He hissed, moaned, and then Cor was parting the cheeks of his ass, was pulling him open, was—

A single unlubed, rough finger pressed into him, and Ardyn had but a moment to wheeze, his breath punched all out of him, before he clawed at the other man’s chest, at his skin and at his clothes, shook, and with a broken-breathed whisper, came so hard he couldn’t see shaking apart in Cor’s arms, ragged and wanton.

“ _Fuck,”_ he added, when he’d noticed he’d come all over his tunic.

\--

He had to admit, Ardyn did have a point about Cor making him wait. Even he’d been with others during those years, and then he’d been old and hadn’t cared much for sex anymore, but Ardyn had been here, waiting for him all that time. It was no surprise that Ardyn was a desperate mess, but still, he bit back at his lips and muttered, “If you waited fifty years you can wait five more minutes.”

He was getting closer himself, though, with Ardyn dragging the two of them together, clinging to him, their hips grinding, and the other man was panting beautifully and making delicious sounds against his lips and he was all snark and desperation and Cor had missed him, missed him so much, even when he was complaining.

When he pressed his finger into him, he expected it to last longer, but Ardyn’s eyes went wide, nails scraping at his skin, and then the other man was shaking hard against him, gasping as he came, and Cor thrust against him harder in response, shoved his finger deeper into him, felt how hot and tight he was inside, and he’d wanted and waited for this for so long, they both had.

The other man was shaking in his arms and Cor laughed quietly under his breath. Ardyn had come all over his tunic, but he was warm in Cor’s arms, and he worked a second finger up into him as he began to relax, let go of his cock to slide his hand up underneath his tunic to feel more of his skin and shoved their faces together, kissing him slow and deep. “That was quick,” he muttered, smiling. “It looks like I haven’t lost my touch after all.”

\--

He wanted to tell Cor off, that fifty years without him after two thousand years alone was one thing, but five minutes now he was _here_ , now he didn’t have to wait any more, were two _totally different things_ , but the words couldn’t come out. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, and his brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

All he managed, eventually, was a hoarse huff. Cor was terrible, and Ardyn shifted, twisting, the arm of the throne digging hard into the small of his back, letting his weight dangle off of where he was clawing against Cor’s back. He huffed a second time as Cor twisted two fingers into him, and grabbed the other man by his high cheekbones and dragged him down to kiss him, hard, thumbs brushing underneath his eyes over the softness of his skin. “Don’t be an ass,” Ardyn murmured into his lips, smiling even as the other man pushed his tunic further up until it was catching on the underside of his tits, revealing his pale, heavy waist and the fat around his ribs. “I _missed_ you. See if I ever do something for you ever again. You’re running through my gratitude mighty fast, Marshal.” He pressed their foreheads together, stared into the other man’s eyes.

They were so, so damn blue. He’d almost forgotten just how much.

It was strange, being this much younger than Cor. But he kind of liked it. “You aren’t fucking me like that here; I’m not immortal any more, you know.” He paused. “I mean, I _am_ , but it’s not going to feel nearly as good if you do that dry as it used to.”

\--

Ardyn dragged him down to kiss him again, thumbs brushing his cheeks, and Cor melted down into it a little, panting against his lips. He smiled, nipped at his lower lip more gently, and ran his fingers over his waist, thumbed at one nipple and let out a shaky breath at how much softer he was now, all over, how smooth and warm. “You’re the one who was goading me,” he muttered, and kissed him again, shoved their faces together, bumped their noses. “I missed you more than anything in the world.”

Ardyn was staring into his eyes, the two of them messy and tangled and sweat-streaked, and Cor stared back, still rubbing his aching cock against Ardyn’s. He was right, though, and he let out a quiet, deflated sigh. “That’s true,” he muttered. If only he had some lube on hand, and maybe somewhere more comfortable than the throne. Fucking him there wouldn’t be easy at all, as much as he wanted it. “You’re tight as hell anyway, but Gods, you’re warm and you feel so good against me and I _want_ you. Even if it’s just to touch you and remember and relearn the way you feel.” He pulled his fingers out, slowly, tugged on his rim and rubbed at the muscle with his thumb. “I wanted you like a drowning man wants air every night of the rest of my life. The waiting was never easy.”

\--

Ardyn smiled, secretive. He had been. It was true. Cor deflated over him when he realised the truth of Ardyn’s words, though, and he pulled the other man over to him, soothed the sorrow from his brow. “I think,” Ardyn giggled a little, “You might be surprised how _loose_ I am, Marshal, not the other way around. Everything feels tighter when you’ve not greased it.”

He pulled Cor closer, slid the arch of one foot over the curve of the other man’s ass, sandal dangling from his toes. “I know,” he murmured, gentle, accepting, wanting. “So come on, then, love. You’ve got me, you don’t even have to try now. I’m right here, Cor. And I’m not going anywhere.”

\--

Ardyn’s touch was gentle, soothing the lines of his brow and Cor curled more over him, kissed him again as he felt the soft sole of the other man’s foot against his ass. And when Ardyn muttered more reassuring words to him, he kissed him deeper, let out a trembling breath against his lips. The very idea of Ardyn being loose for him made his cock throb and he rubbed at his entrance with his thumb again and pressed it in. “I wish I had some oil or some lube on me right now,” he muttered, rocking against him to get more friction on his aching cock, “so I could open you up like I used to and slide in like it was nothing, like you were meant for me.”

He stared down into the other man’s bright amber eyes, moaned a little because he was tense and needy all over, and he twisted his thumb in deeper, curled it to try to coax him open. “I wanted you so much and now here you are just… perfect. Even better than in all the dreams I ever had about you.”

\--

He could _feel_ Cor’s cock jumping against him at the thought of getting in him, and Ardyn laughed again, flushed with pleasure at his attention. “Later, later, I promise.” Cor was still pulling at his rim, this time with his thumb, and as much as he wanted to chastise the other man for getting handsy, he couldn’t find it in him to really be _that_ indignant. “You’ve all the time in the world to fuck me on literally _every possible_ surface in Lucis.” He paused, grinned, all teeth. “And visa versa, of course.”

Shifting slightly, letting Cor keep getting at his ass because it was clearly getting the other man off, Ardyn wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the other man’s length, swiped his thumb in the thick pre dripping from his slit, and started jerking him off steady and with long strokes, got his other hand around the base of Cor’s dick, and _squeezed_ , harder than he needed to, hard enough that he felt Cor’s cock throb.

\--

Cor nodded. “Later,” he mumbled against the other man’s lips, smiling, but he kept his thumb pressed into him, kept tugging gently on his rim and wishing it was his cock in him instead but soon… soon. They had plenty of time, and Ardyn said as much, and flushed at the promise that Ardyn would fuck him sometimes, too. “Of course,” he muttered, rubbed at the soft skin and hair over his chest with his other hand and panted into the air between them.

When he felt Ardyn’s fingers on his cock, he groaned, jerking into his hand, his eyes half-closed as he thrust into his touch. He couldn’t possibly last much longer, he knew he wouldn’t, not with Ardyn beneath him, pinned on the throne and Cor fingering his ass and kissing him and thinking about all the time they had to make up for, and all that they could do with the time they had now.

He gasped when Ardyn squeezed his length at the base, let out a choked-up sob, and panted harder, thrust desperately into his grip. “Please,” he moaned, shifted to press his face into the other man’s hair for a moment as he felt himself flush even more, down his neck and chest. “Again… do that again. And touch my balls, Gods, I never let anyone else, not like you used to, _please_.”

\--

Cor’s blue eyes were half-closed, lidded with arousal and hot want, and he kept staring down at where Ardyn had his fingers wrapped tight around his length, thumb grinding into his damp slit. His hips jerked forward, stuttering into Ardyn’s hands, whining. He sobbed, and it was the best damn sound Ardyn had ever heard. His tan skin was flushed uncomfortably hot and stained, and _gods_ , did Ardyn—

He laughed, gaily, at the other man’s confession, and slid his hand further over, cupped Cor’s balls, and _dragged_ the Marshal the rest of the way over him by his grip, merciless and wanting. “I’m a mess already,” he murmured, enjoying the play of pain and wonder on the other man’s face, the hot flush of arousal and need that burned his skin. “You may as well go ahead and finish the job.”

\--

Ardyn did as he asked without a moment’s hesitation, slipped his hand between them, and Cor groaned as he felt the other man cupping his balls and then, all at once, grabbing them and dragging, _hard_. Cor let him pull him, pressed their faces together and groaned and sobbed with it. He was coming as Ardyn spoke, coming before he’d even fully realized that he was, because it felt so good and he’d wanted it for _so long_. This. All of this.

He shuddered and sobbed again as he spilled between them, tugged his thumb out of him to grip his thigh instead, to ground himself, and jerked his hips, pressed himself into Ardyn’s touch. Even when he was finished, he was left reeling and gasping from the force of it, but he began to slump down over the other man, kissed his lips and closed his eyes, still trembling. “Oh, yes,” he breathed, and tried to fit the two of them closer together, even though Ardyn was a mess. “Yes, _yes_.”

\--

Cor shot off so fast it actually surprised him, Cor grabbing Ardyn’s thigh white-knuckled for dear life, and he tugged the other man over him until they were sprawled and tangled together on the throne. He was going to get into _so_ much trouble for this; but then again, he’d been the one to found the throne, so he could fuck on it just about as much as he pleased.

Sated, sore, no doubt with bruises forming on his hips and lower back and elbows from getting rammed into the chair, Ardyn let his legs flop boneless to the floor, sandals smacking the marble, and sprawled with his arms over the armrests, wrists dangling bonelessly, fingers trailing. Cor was heavy and half-slid off of his lap, but he couldn’t bear to kick the other man off quite yet, even if it was ruining both their clothes.

Well, they were dead, and clothes were kind of whatever you made of them anyway. But still. It was the principle of the thing.

“Cor,” Ardyn said at last, when he could bother to rouse himself enough to tangle his fingers in the short hair at the base of the other man’s neck, thumb stroking behind his ear, “Have you seen everyone else yet?”

\--

Cor let out quiet, shuddering breaths as he relaxed against the other man and Ardyn relaxed beneath him, the two of them slumping together on the throne, Cor slowly sliding off until he set one foot down on the floor to take some of his weight. He pressed his face into Ardyn’s hair, humming contently as he breathed him in, palms still pressed to his skin. They were a mess but he couldn’t even imagine that mattered, so he just stayed where he was.

After a few long moments, Ardyn said his name softly, and Cor lifted his head to look at him as the other man’s fingers pressed gently against the back of his neck, curling into his hair. “Yeah,” he said as he shifted back so he wasn’t leaning quite so much over Ardyn anymore but still balanced half on the throne. “When I arrived.” He smiled. “Regis and everyone else told me to come here, to find you.”

\--

When Cor did finally look at him, he was still dazed and a little overwhelmed. He shifted, adjusting, and Ardyn leaned up into the space he’d vacated, wrapped his arms around Cor’s neck and shoulders, and tugged him back over so that Ardyn could nuzzle his face into the warmth at the base of his neck, wiggling so his tunic fell back down. It was a mess, but he could make it go away. That was a perk to being dead. “Good,” he murmured in reply. “Means I don’t have to share you at all now I’ve got you back.” He let go of Cor at last, and righted his clothes, brushing away the mess they’d made like it was dust, and stood, one hand balanced still on Cor’s shoulder.

Ardyn did have to stop and fix his toga, though, which took more time than he would have liked to admit, until the wool hung properly again. They’d made quite a mess. “If I may have you all to myself,” he continued, holding out his hand to the other man, “Please, Cor. Will you walk with me, for a time?”

\--

Ardyn shifted with him, wrapped his arms around his neck and Cor sighed and leaned into his touch, smiled as Ardyn nuzzled his neck. He ran his hands down the other man’s chest, straightening his tunic, and rested his hands on his waist, rubbed his thumbs in slow circles. He laughed quietly when Ardyn said he wouldn’t have to share him and kissed the side of his neck. “That’s true.”

When Ardyn stood, he did as well, and stayed near, near enough that they were almost still in full physical contact, but he gave the other man some space as he fixed his toga. He wasn’t about to try to help him with that. Perhaps, in time, he would learn, and could help him with the heavy cloth. It would be good to know, to help him dress, and for the next time he wanted to get his hands beneath those layers.

The mess just seemed to… not matter, after that. Being dead, he supposed, had plenty of perks. Ardyn offered his hand, and Cor took it, sliding in close to him again, and kissed the corner of his lips. “I’d love to,” he muttered, smiling. “I’m all yours, for as long as you want me. I’ve missed you too long to let anyone interrupt us for a while yet.”

\--

Ardyn smiled into his kiss, and reached down to squeeze Cor’s cock, still semi-hard between his thighs. “Put your trousers back on, Marshal, and then let me show you around.” He pulled away, wrapped his fingers around the other man’s elbow instead of his hand. “I think you’ll find the Citadel very different from how you remember it. There’s lots of us here, and it’s somehow itself to all of us. The corridors can get a little labyrinthine.”

\--

Cor laughed a little when Ardyn reached down to squeeze his softening dick and picked up his trousers, stepping back into them and straightening his own clothes out, then offered his elbow as Ardyn took it. “I’d like that,” he said, leaning over to press his face into his hair. “I came straight to the throne room, but I’d love to see the rest.”

\--

After Cor righted his trousers, Ardyn linked their arms at the elbows and gently pulled the other man with him, down off of the throne and around to one of the back doors out of the room that led into one of the many hallways and corridors that snaked around the citadel. (He also, studiously, ignored the fact that another door had creaked open as they’d left, and he’d caught a glimpse of his brother’s dark curls, and Regis’ short, silver hair. What Cor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and better he not know that they’d been...overheard.)

“I must admit,” he began as they walked, fingers tracing the thick veins visible in the other man’s hand and wrist, wide and powerful under his tan skin, “that ever since we’ve met, I’ve longed to bring you to the Insomnia that I remember. You asked me, once, I don’t know if you remember, to tell you about it...and I could not.” Ardyn looked up, away from their hands, and to Cor’s face.

Cor was older than him. How strange.

“And now I can.”

\--

Their elbows linked, Cor followed Ardyn away from the throne and through another door, into the hallway beyond. He’d spent years in the Citadel, the Citadel he remembered from Regis’s time, and after Ardyn’s death, when it had been repurposed as the central hub of political activity but with no king on the throne. This, though, didn’t quite feel the same—but at the same time, it was as familiar as breathing, just like Ardyn’s touch, warm fingers tracing his wrist.

He nodded a little. “I remember asking you about your past, but you never did tell me much.” He smiled at him and moved closer, so they walked step in step with their sides brushing. When Ardyn looked up at him, Cor met his soft amber eyes and smiled at him. He was so much more full of life now than he ever was when Cor knew him. Beautiful.

“I’d love to see it.”

\--

Ardyn grinned, like a child granted permission to stay up late, and pulled Cor on. “You can’t really get lost,” he confided in the other man, taking a sharp left, and easily climbing two flights of stairs by just lifting the ropes of his toga, no worries about his bad hip to dog his steps any more, and dropped it to brush the floor once again when they reached the top. “It just...goes on forever, all the people who have lived here through the years. There’s a little bit of everyone in the walls, the floor.” As he spoke, Ardyn ran his hand along the balustrade, pleased beyond words.

Once upon a time, that had been what he’d dreamt of. An Insomnia that stretched on through the ages, growing and changing as her people needed her. She had; just not in the way he had planned. Just not in the way he had wanted.

But this had been close enough, in the end. “But this,” he continued, pulling Cor on and deeper and further into the seemingly-endless Citadel, before he came to a long downward staircase, switchbacks with landings, and took the lead, effortlessly lifting his skirts and taking it two steps at a time until he reached the ground floor and leaned his back against the grilled gate that covered the doorway, and pushed it open, revealing—

His garden, as it had been, so long ago, sprawling as wide as the courtyard, ponds, trees, bugs and birds chirping and trilling and calling, frogs gurgling in the lilies. “This is just mine.”

\--

Ardyn grinned, vibrant and gorgeous, and led him on excitedly, explaining a little about this particular Citadel, which was also many Citadels. Cor followed, through halls and up stairs, and then down again, and there was such joy in his voice, such _love_. Here, he could be everything he could never be at the end of his life. A King who was proud of the city he’d founded and what it had become, and Cor was more and more in love with every hastened fall of his sandalled foot upon the stone steps, with every note of his voice as it rose in increasing excitement. Ardyn could move easily now, no longer held back by the injury across his hip, not here in the afterlife, and he’d never been more glad to see how freeing that was, to see him take the steps with ease.

Eventually, when they came to the stairs, Cor followed let Ardyn get a little ahead of him so as not to trip on the cloth that trailed behind him, but he never stayed more than an arm’s length away. There was a gate there, at the end of those stairs, a gate he’d never seen before, and when Ardyn pushed it open, he stared in awe at the expansive garden beyond, filled with trees and ponds and grass and animals… it was beautiful. One of the most beautiful places he’d ever seen, and he strode through the gate with slow, even steps, then turned back to Ardyn and moved in close again. “It’s incredible,” he muttered, smiling. There was something about Ardyn owning a garden like this that just seemed to… fit. “It suits you as well as the throne does.”

\--

Cor took a handful of steps in after Ardyn and then, almost like he wasn’t aware he was doing it, his steps slowed, lurched, ceased. Cor stopped just at the top of the half-flight of stairs into the garden proper, below the boughs of the ancient olive tree that crowned the grove, twisted and gnarled and presently heavy with fruit.

Ardyn waited, his hands folded before him, and smiled when Cor turned back to look at him, awe-struck, came back over to crowd just into the edge of Ardyn’s personal space. “I think you’re being perhaps a bit too flattering,” Ardyn murmured in reply, trailed his fingers down Cor’s arm. “But I appreciate it nevertheless. I’m afraid the original is long-gone...burned down, oh, about two hundred years after my first death.” He looked wistfully around; it had been near-dead then. It had been no great loss. “But it’s never changed in my memories, so here it is. This tree, the olive, was from our childhood home. When the first Citadel was built, Izunia helped me transplant it here.” Ardyn laughed. “It’s even older than I am, even with being dead all this time!”

\--

Ardyn’s fingers trailed along his arm as they stood beneath the boughs of the tree together, at the top of the steps leading down to the garden path. The garden was incredible, but he found his gaze fixed on Ardyn again, and the gentle fall of his red curls across his shoulders. It was so long now, longer than he’d worn it even on Altum’s glamor, ending in tighter ringlets, and Cor brushed his fingers through them, reverent and affectionate, then looked up at the tree.

It was gorgeous, with a thick trunk and ancient, twisting limbs, hanging with olives. He’d never seen one quite like it before, or at least quite that old. And here it stood, pulled out of Ardyn’s memories to stand like the great sentinel it had been in life. “It’s a beautiful tree,” he muttered, and didn’t let his thoughts linger on Izunia for long when Ardyn mentioned him. He knew the man was there, somewhere, and he felt his chest tense with a pang of long pent-up anger when Ardyn said his name. He didn’t want to think about Izunia, though, not yet, not right now when he was alone with Ardyn in such a private, almost sacred, place. He only wanted to focus on the garden, and the two of them.

“What about the rest of it?” he asked, gently taking the other man’s hand and tangling their fingers. “I’d love to see more. Show me.”

\--

“Something tells me,” Ardyn replied, leaning against Cor’s chest as the other man came over, smiling at him, “That the tree isn’t really the thing that you think is beautiful. But, yes, let me show you around.” He tugged Cor after him, down around the winding marble paths, heating with the hot afternoon sun, the black stone glistening. Hours passed as easily as moments, time as flawed as it always was here in death, the sun drenching them as it wrenched through the sky. Ardyn, in his tunic and his toga, was fine, but he knew from experience that the garden would get hot fast, the plants catching the humidity and moisture, the stones heating until they were burning. “You’ll overheat, Marshal,” Ardyn whispered, heated, against the fullness of the other man’s mouth, drawing him back to the pond edge at last, as the afternoon had started to wear on toward twilight and the early, muggy evening. He tugged Cor’s jacket off at some point, managed to get his outer shirt off, tossed that one to the side as well.

It was halfway through taking Cor’s coat off, though, that Ardyn paused, his hands slid inside the leather, expression consternated. He set it down on the ground and held up instead what had been gently flattened and tucked within, marveling.

“Marshal, is this _my hat_?”

\--

Cor smiled at him, because it was true, the tree was beautiful, but he’d been staring at Ardyn when he said it. The garden was lovely, though, and he was more than happy to walk the quiet paths next to Ardyn, their arms linked together, walking so close they were practically draped across each other. Cor looked at the garden quite a bit, but just as often he found his gaze settling back on Ardyn, and he’d lean over to press his face into his wild curls and breathe him in.

It was easy to lose track of time there, in the garden. There was a sort of peace contained within it that he’d never known anywhere else. It was like the two of them were the only people left in all existence, and he wouldn’t have minded if it were true. But as they continued on through the expansive garden and its twisting paths, it did start to get very warm very fast.

He laughed a little when they stopped near the edge of the pond, rested his palms on the other man’s hips and drew him in close, leaning over to press their mouths together, kissing him, as Ardyn slowly coaxed him out of his layers, first his coat and then his outer shirt, until he was left only in the thin shirt he wore beneath.. “It is very warm,” he admitted. “Still, it’s almost like you just want me to strip.”

And then the man withdrew, from where Cor had tucked it earlier, his hat, gently flattened, worn with age.

“Yes,” he admitted, almost embarrassed because he’d wanted to give it back to him sooner, but he’d been so caught up in him, he’d forgotten about the old hat. “I had it with me when I died, so it came with me here. I… meant to return it to you. I held onto it all these years.” He smiled a little, sadly. “It always smelled just enough like you, when I missed you the most.”

\--

Stunned, Ardyn turned the hat in his hands. He’d never expected to see the thing again—oh, certainly, he could have manifested it out of his memories, had he wanted to, But he didn’t want to. It had been part of his affectations at the end, when he’d been so used to wearing his laurels through most of his mortal life.

He hadn’t expected Cor to _keep_ it. “Did you…” he hesitated, looked at the other man. He had left it on Cor’s chest, yes, before he’d died, but it had been more out of pity than anything else. He’d almost expected the other man to throw it away. “Did you keep it all those years, hoping I would come back for it?”

\--

Ardyn turned the hat about, almost bewildered by its presence there. Cor shrugged at the question. “Well… yes. I knew you wouldn’t come back, but I kept it just because… I always hoped we’d be together again, someday.” He smiled at the other man, reached out to stroke his hair again. “And it always smelled just enough like you, when I needed it the most. I took good care of your car, too, and the chocobo feather you gave me. I always tried dating other people, I tried to move on like you wanted me to, I really did, but I always kept these pieces of you close to me, too. I missed you.” He’d said it before, in the throne room, could have said it over a thousand times, how much he’d missed him.

\--

Ardyn smiled at him, trailed a hand down the other man’s arm from his shoulder to his wrist. “I knew you would,” he confided. “I’m sure Aurora will be glad to hear her last feather had a good life. You didn’t by any chance donate it to a museum, did you? She always deserved her own exhibit.” But his car, too, and his hat—Cor had waited so long for him, so long for them to be together. 

“Thank you, Marshal,” he settled on after a moment. “For taking care of my things even though you knew this time I’d never be coming back.”

\--

“Of course,” he muttered. He’d figured, years later, that the feather had once belonged to Ardyn’s chocobo. He’d mentioned her only the one time, but of course, black chocobos had been more common thousands of years ago. After that, he’d only treasured it even more. It had lived on his desk until Monica’s passing.

“Before I died, I gave it to Iris to look after. But knowing her, I’m sure that’s where it will end up. She wouldn’t have any reason to keep it for herself, and she knows it isn’t a replica. Your car may very well share a similar fate. It belonged to the first king, after all.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss him. “Even if you weren’t there, of course I took care of your things. They were important to me, too.”

\--

Ardyn huffed. “My car,” he explained, “Belonged to a lovely older woman who I met at a knitting club, who said I reminded her of her departed son. She had me help her take care of it, since I was getting my degree in mechanical engineering at the time, and when she died she willed it to me. So, _really_ , it belonged to a nice granny who thought it went well with my hair.” All the funnier it might end up in a museum. It was a lovely vintage, though, so it deserved it. 

“Anyway,” Ardyn murmured, wiping sweat from Cor’s brow, lips pursed, “You do look a bit overheated. It is quite humid, especially after all this walking we’ve done. I’d hate for you to have to take a swim, or something of the sort, to keep from overheating.”

\--

Cor’s smile only widened as Ardyn explained very matter-of-factly who his car had _actually_ belonged to. But it had been Ardyn’s in the end, and that was all Cor had cared about it. As for it ending up in a museum, though, well… “I can’t exactly tell them that, can I? Considering that I’m dead, and so are you.” 

He felt like laughing about it anyway, though, and he leaned closer to Ardyn despite the humidity. Maybe the heat was getting to him a little, too, but he didn’t mind it too much, and he raised an eyebrow as Ardyn wiped at his forehead. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to watch me go for a swim?” He couldn’t imagine Ardyn honestly saying no to that idea.

\--

Ardyn innocently slid his hands up under Cor’s shirt, mapping the shapes of his abs, the chiselled arcs of his hipbones, the dip of his navel. “I’m just looking after your well-being,” he replied, prim, even if he _was_ shoving his tongue in Cor’s mouth as he said it. “It’s my job, you know, as both a healer _and_ a King, to look after my subjects. I can’t have you overexerting yourself, Marshal. Heatstroke is very dangerous, you know, and not the way to end an otherwise perfect day.”

He definitely wanted to see Cor swim. He wanted to see him with his trousers, already-tight, clinging to the corded muscles of his thighs, his short hair plastered to his scalp and forehead, his eyelashes dripping onto his cheekbones. Ardyn definitely wanted to see that. “I’ll admit,” he began, a bit hesitantly, “That it has been _some time_ since I swam for pleasure, but I suppose there’s no finer place to do it than in an ornamental pond in a forgotten garden, replete with captive-bred fish, frogs, and some of the finest lilies ever grown.”

\--

Ardyn’s palms slid up under his shirt, touching his skin as they kissed and Cor pressed himself closer, into the other man’s hands. He was sure Ardyn would have loved to see him go for a swim, watch the water cascade off his muscles. But when he started going on about the dangers of heatstroke, Cor just laughed into his mouth, wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a tighter embrace. It was just like him, his healer King, and every moment they were together he realized more and more just how _much_ he’d missed him and all his quirks.

He kissed him again, loving and deep, and grinned. “No better place indeed,” he agreed, and while he’d been holding him close, let go suddenly and playfully pushed him away with just a gentle shove, enough to make him stumble so that he could reach out and catch him, pull him back against him again. But when he reached for the cloth draped around him as he fell, Ardyn didn’t catch. Instead, Cor was left standing there, baffled on the edge of the pond, holding only the long piece of wool cloth that Ardyn had draped around him.

\--

Ardyn had about a half-breath to realise what Cor was doing before he did it, and by then it was all too late. “Cor!” He yelped, grasping helplessly for the other man as Cor shoved him backwards toward the marble that ringed the knee-deep pond, and watched as Cor grabbed the cloth of his toga, the wool slipping between his fingers, and catching all-too-briefly around Ardyn’s waist and knees before it spun out, took his ankles out from under him, and—

Ardyn toppled gracelessly backwards and landed sprawled flat on his ass in the pond, water up to his chin and the spray painting his hair to soaking and plastered against his scalp and face and neck. He looked up at Cor, standing still on the edge of the pond, holding his toga in absolute befuddlement, and Ardyn struggled, unbalanced as he stood up, water cascading down his arms and legs, his tunic plastered to his body like a second skin, one sleeve slipped off of his shoulder, the skirt of it stuck nylon-tight to his thighs. “Cor,” he managed, trying not to laugh, brushing algae off of his arms and knocking a lily out of his hair, “It’s a _toga_. It’s not pinned on!”

\--

It all happened before he could do anything more than grasp helplessly at the cloth as Ardyn tumbled gracelessly into the pond. He held the stretch of wool in his hands, staring at it, then at Ardyn as the other man righted himself and stood, soaked through, his hair dripping in places and his tunic sticking to his skin.

“Well,” he started, in a vague effort to defend himself while Ardyn looked like he was going to burst into laughter. “I’ve never… seen anyone wearing one of these before.” He knew what togas were, vaguely, from history classes, but experiencing Ardyn _wearing_ one was completely different. He’d even only somewhat registered it when they had sex on the throne, he’d been a bit preoccupied with everything else, and now he just turned the cloth about in his hands and tried to figure out how Ardyn had managed to turn it into a nice looking garment and how it had unwound so quickly.

Then he sighed and stood at the very edge of the pond, reaching out to offer the other man a hand. “Well, you did say it had been a while since you got to go swimming. But, I’d meant to catch you. I hope you won’t have me executed for accidentally dumping you in a pond.” He grinned, and honestly, he half expected Ardyn to pull him into the water, too, when he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the garden path. They were quiet, but there, and he turned to look over his shoulder. He thought Ardyn said this was _his_ place, and his alone.

\--

The look of consternation on the other man’s face was worth, by far and away, the unceremonious dunking Ardyn had endured by falling into the water, and he doubled over laughing as Cor continued to fumble with the length of his toga, like he couldn’t figure out what it was for. “One wears it carefully, and with a great deal of time spent perfecting just how to hold it. And, when desperate, with huge fibulas.” He waded over to the edge of the pond, set one hand on the marble rim, just at the level of his waist, and looked up at where Cor was standing over him, half-dressed.

“No,” he replied, smiling, “I think this one time you will be spared my Kingly wrath. It was, after all, not entirely your fault.” Ardyn was in the act of reaching for the outstretched hand Cor had offered when he heard footsteps and looked past the other man to see who it was. As if he needed to see; he recognised his brother in lock-step anywhere, and he lowered his hand. “<Izunia, you don’t have to skulk around behind the juniper. Come out here, if you’re going to insist on introducing yourself.>” A moment longer and his brother turned the corner, looking his usually sour-faced self, his thick curls tied up and out of his face from the last time Ardyn had seen him, before Cor’s arrival, kept free of his eyes with a leather thong.

“[It wasn’t so long ago that I was the one dumping you in ponds, brother.]”

“[I think, brother, you’d be surprised at just how long it was. Two thousand years are quite a bit longer when you live them.]” Ardyn cleared his throat, glanced at Cor, and then looked down at his hands to make sure he had a solid grip as he levered himself out of the water, spoke towards Cor without looking up. “Marshal, I believe you have not yet met my brother.”

\--

Cor stiffened as soon as Ardyn said Izunia’s name, glaring in the direction he’d heard the footsteps coming from. Very slowly, he folded Ardyn’s cloth in his arms, set it on the edge of the pond, and straightened, tense and one hand poised like he was ready to summon his sword.

The man that emerged didn’t look quite like Cor had ever expected, but then, he’d never taken much time to consider _what_ Izunia might have looked like. He looked like Ardyn, but… not, at the same time, and he made the connection quickly enough. Ardyn had mentioned that he had a brother he’d just… never said that his brother was Izunia. But it made sense. He’d taken the crown, after all. Taken the crown and hurt Ardyn beyond belief, gave him that horrible limp, wrote him out of history, robbed him of _everything_. And he had the _gall_ to spy on them, to interrupt them. Even when Ardyn spoke to him, he sounded tense and even, like Izunia was an unfortunate burr on his side he hadn’t wanted but simply had to deal with, like he was long-suffering and used to this, but Cor was not going to stand for it.

He didn’t know what they were saying, but it didn’t matter. When Ardyn introduced them, Cor relaxed, just a little. “No,” he said, still staring daggers at his brother. “I haven’t had the pleasure of this yet.” And then he strode forward with quick, long strides, made a fist with one hand, and drove it right across Izunia’s face.

\--

Ardyn should have been able to guess what was about to happen before it happened. But he didn’t. All he got was the cold, brutal lifelessness of Cor’s voice, and then he heard footsteps, looked up with one leg up out of the water, the knee resting on the sun-scalded marble, and watched in open-mouthed awe as Cor took those last few steps to his brother, and—

Proceeded to punch Izunia in the face with all his strength.

For all that Izunia was square and built with muscle and power, he was still a handspan shorter than Ardyn and Cor were, and was top-heavy in his shoulders and biceps to boot. A punch that solid and that fast, like Ardyn’s own greeting to him had been upon his death, took him down in a single hit. Izunia rocked, stunned into silence, one hand pressed to his bruising jaw, and stared up at Cor in horror. “Cor,” Ardyn started to say, pulling himself the rest of the way out of the pond, “You don’t really need to, I’ve already read him the riot act—”

His attempts to diffuse the situation were completely in vain, because only moments later, Cor Leonis grabbed Izunia Lucis Caelum by his tunic collar, hauled him back over, and proceeded to punch him a second time, so hard Ardyn heard bone snap.

\--

He’d been waiting for _years_ to be able to do that, ever since Ardyn had told him, mostly in vague terms, what Izunia had done to him, but it was all easy enough to put together, to figure out, especially now that he knew they were brothers. He could hear Ardyn behind him, trying to stop him, but when Izunia didn’t fall, Cor just grabbed him and punched him again, harder, across the nose, and watched as he spun down to the ground from that strike.

He had half a mind to beat the living daylights out of him then and there, but honestly, the other man looked kind of pathetic just laying there, too pathetic for Cor to waste his energy on breaking half his bones. It wasn’t worth it. Instead, he stood over him for a moment and got a good look at him. “You may have written him and everything you did to him out of history,” he said, “but I wrote it back _in_. Everyone alive for generations to come will know what you did, and that he was always the true king, _not_ you.” Of course he realized belatedly that the man didn’t understand a damn thing he was saying, and he clenched his jaw and got out, as threatening as he could, because at least Izunia would pick up on that much, “if I catch you spying on us again I will make it much, much worse for you.” He didn’t really care how much the brothers had or hadn’t straightened things between them in their years in the Afterlife together. He would _never_ forgive Izunia.

\--

Izunia went down like a sack of bricks, and stayed down. Ardyn stared. Mostly appreciatively. A little bit in stunned amazement. “Cor,” he said, “he doesn’t understand you, he only speaks Old Lucian and Sol—” but whatever he’d been about to continue with died out in his throat as Cor continued speaking, and Ardyn.

Stared at him. Unable to speak.

Eventually, when Izunia sat up, and turned to look at him, mouth open to question what Cor had said, Ardyn just said, not even glancing toward him, “Izunia, fuck off.” He didn’t bother to use anything other than Modern Lucian; the other man knew what he meant well enough. The years and languages had changed, but telling someone to go shove it up their ass had never really been any different in any language.

Izunia ran off with his tail between his legs, like a coward. Even though Ardyn knew he would have to smooth things over later, for now, it was a blessing, and he finished crawling back out of the pond, wringing water out of his curls, kicking off his sopping sandals as he shook water off of his legs. “Cor,” Ardyn began, watching the other man’s back, his shoulders tight with tension, the arc of the blades visible like knives through the cloth, pressing out of him with fury, “Did you...really do that?”

\--

Cor didn’t take his eyes off Izunia as the other man sat up, looking at him in confusion, watched him as he fled at Ardyn’s words. He didn’t look away until he was sure Izunia wasn’t going to creep right back. Only then, when Ardyn spoke to him, did he turn around, and only when he looked at the other man, wringing water out of his hair and clothes, did he begin to relax again, the tension easing out of his shoulders and back.

“Yes,” he said, and his face softened, too. He somehow thought Monica might have told Ardyn all of that already but… no, of course not, she would have had no reason to. “Why do you think it took me so long to join you? I had to make sure everything was right. It took me _years_.”

\--

In the time that it had taken them to cross the Citadel, to wander talking of sweet nothings through the gardens, the sun had started to sink deep into the western sky. Now, after Ardyn’s sudden encounter with the pond and heralding Izunia’s departure, the sunset had begun in earnest, and hot swaths of orange and red, gold and purple were clouding out the sky, wiping clean the blue slate of the clear afternoon. It cast the garden into long shadows, the pergola columns trailing like fingers across the black marble stone, the shade darkening Cor’s hair to be almost black, with filigreed streaks of silver beside his temples.

Cor relaxed, straightened, and turned to face him, his eyes bright as stars in the shadow-darkened hollows of his cheeks and eyebrows. Ardyn could not bear to bring himself to look away, even for a moment, his fingers stilled on the hem of his tunic, single strands of hair stuck drying and itchy around and under the shells of his ears.

“I had thought,” he began, and then hesitated, unsure. Ardyn was not, in fact, sure what he had thought. He thought merely that Cor had lived, as Ardyn had begged him to, for as long as his allotted years had been. He hadn’t thought that the other man had found a reason to _stay_.

He took a half step forward, toes splayed against the cooling marble. “Cor,” Ardyn whispered, his voice pitched low, half-swallowed in his throat, “What do you mean, you _wrote it back in_. What do you mean, you had to make sure it was _right_?”

\--

Ardyn was staring at him with a look Cor couldn’t quite name. He started speaking, hesitant, and cut himself off, confused and unsure. As Ardyn took a step towards him, Cor stayed where he was, unsure himself, and when Ardyn finally got out what he wanted to ask, shifted awkwardly. He was proud of what he’d done. He’d spent the entire latter half of his life setting things right, but now, when the person he’d done it all for was staring him down and asking him to explain, he hardly knew where to begin. What if it wasn’t right, what if it wasn’t _enough_? But he had to start somewhere, so, he tried.

“Well,” he began. “I couldn’t let you go down in history, remembered as the Accursed. You hated it so much, and you were so sick at the end, and there was so much you’d done that I knew you would be hated for and I just _couldn’t_ let that happen. I wanted everyone to see what I saw in you. I wanted everyone to see the king who only ever wanted to heal everyone, even at the cost of himself.”

He looked up at Ardyn, then, sure enough of himself now that he’d started to explain. “So, I worked with historians and artists and scholars, and we pored over old documents and I told them what I knew, from you, and about you. Some of the older texts, they’ll be wrong forever, but the _newer_ ones, and the ones we could reprint, I made sure that they all explained that you were the first King, the healer King, who healed the Scourge to save everyone, and was turned away by the Astrals because of the taint, who was killed by his own brother, who then took the throne from him.

“And I made sure that everyone knew how the Astrals forced your hand, too, why you did everything that you did, and… all of it. I told them everything, had it all recorded properly.” He smiled a little, as he thought back on those years. “There’s a statue of you now, in front of the Citadel, and you were given a king’s burial. Despite some of the things you had to do, you’ll never be hated or forgotten. You won’t be remembered as a monster, but as a king. And that was what I wanted. I wanted everyone to know the truth. I wanted to undo what Izunia had done and set things right.

“I dedicated the rest of my life to that.”

\--

When Cor began to speak, Ardyn had the sudden and almost inescapable urge to sit down. Hard. His knees felt weak, his head pounded. “Cor,” he started to say, trying to interrupt the other man as he kept going on—telling Ardyn about how he’d been written back in, his name disconnected from what he’d become at the end, his birthright restored to him. “Cor,” he tried again, trying to say _what I did was terrible_ , because he had killed thousands, _what I did was unredeemable_ because when faced with the option to forgive and forget, to let the world have a second chance at life he had clung tooth and nail to rage and spite and revenge solely for the sake of revenge. “Cor,” Ardyn whispered, touching his wrist, the soft hollow of his elbow, the dip of his collarbones, because Ardyn had taken Eos apart at the seams and broken it down for the sake of a boy he’d hardly even known because of the body Izunia had left bleeding on the Citadel stairs in another lifetime.

“Cor,” Ardyn settled on, cupped the other man’s face, found he could gather together no words that told the feelings he wanted to convey, that there was no way he could say how hollow and strangely whole he felt. That there was nothing, truly nothing, no way he could even begin to tell Cor—

Ardyn kissed him. Slow, palms cupping his sharp cheekbones, the Marshal’s stubble digging into Ardyn’s fat-soft skin. Slow, and deep, pulling him closer, rocking up on his toes even though he didn’t need to, just slightly taller than the other man. Until his lips felt like they would bruise with it, their noses mashed inelegantly together, their foreheads bumping, Ardyn soaking Cor’s shirt and trousers with his sopping wet tunic. Kissed him because there _were no words_ for what he felt, some great amalgamation of heat and fear and sorrow and _thanks_ tight and high in his chest in a knot behind his breastbone, unspooled and torn asunder by the very idea that even after everything, Cor had stayed on for him, _because_ of him, to change the man he had been.

That Cor had, despite everything, still accepted what Ardyn had been forced to become, and never apologised, and never erased it. Had still loved him even after all, despite his flaws as deep-seated as a vein of gold in marble. That Cor had, with hindsight separating them years longer than they had ever known one another in life, believed him worthy and deserving of saving, even just from his own ghost and his haunted corpse.

Ardyn kissed him, because if he spoke, he would cry.

\--

Ardyn kept saying his name, gently, touching his skin, but he _had_ to know. And when he was finished, rather than say anything at all, Ardyn kissed him, warm, soft lips meeting his, and he closed his eyes and leaned into it, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close again. He didn’t care that the other man was still soaking wet, didn’t care at all, he just held him and kissed him, their faces shoved together. He knew, maybe Ardyn still thought he was too flawed, and it was true that what he’d done was terrible, _more_ than terrible, but he’d been twisted and corrupted by daemons, a fragment of himself, and he’d been denied everything time and time again, _driven_ to that point. And Cor accepted that. Accepted every flaw, every monstrous deed, and seen who he was beneath all of that, the man he held now, tight in his arms.

“Ardyn,” he said after a moment, against his lips, as he lifted one hand to touch the other man’s face. “I want to stay by your side, here, as your Shield, as your friend, as someone who loves you more than anything. Will you let me?”

\--

When, finally, they broke the kiss and parted, Ardyn pulled away from Cor, pressed his face into his hands, like he was fixing his hair, pulling away from the other man’s hand on his cheek, gentle against his face and skin. Wiped the tears that were burning his eyes from his cheekbones.

When he could be sure his voice would not tremble, he took in a shaking breath, composed himself, turned to look back at Cor. He looked a little bereft, strangely lonely, there in that low light. But he looked _right_. He looked rather like home. “My dear Marshal,” Ardyn settled on at last, reaching out for the other man’s hand, “If that is where you would like to be, then I would have no greater wish than for you to remain beside me. Properly this time,” he added, humour colouring his voice, “None of this alias nonsense, or sneaking about at night and pretending we’re perfect strangers in the daylight.”

\--

He let Ardyn pull away, and have a little space as he fixed his hair and wiped his eyes. He seemed, as before, unable to speak, and Cor let the question hang in the air until Ardyn was ready to answer. When he did, it was in the exact silver-tongued manner he’d expected, because Ardyn was feeling too much to let his words be emotional too, and Cor smiled and took his hand, squeezed it tight.

“There’s nothing I want more in the world,” he assured him. “Properly. Of course.” His smile widened, and he moved a little closer as he looked up at the setting sun, casting its final rays across the sky, making room for stars. And then he looked, instead, into Ardyn’s bright amber eyes, even more beautiful than the sun, practically glowing in the dim light.

With the darkness settling around them, it all just felt… familiar, and right, and he grinned as he said, “But you know, night was _always_ our time.”

\--

Cor smiled at him, and Ardyn sighed back at him, huffy. “It’s not nice,” he murmured, thumb brushing over the back of the other man’s hand, across his raised veins and the thinning skin stretched between his thumb and forefinger, “to be smug about reading someone like an open book. All these years, Marshal, I’ve prided myself on being inscrutable, and then you come by and have to peel me apart like I’m a puzzle box you just _must_ solve.” Cor stepped closer then, looking into his eyes, and Ardyn (not for the first, not for the last) found himself transfixed by the other man’s eyes.

He’d seen more of Izunia since his death than he had in centuries before, and when he had seen Cor for the first time, Ardyn had been wrong. His memories had faded like worn cloth with all the years intervening, and he had remembered his brother’s eyes more blue than they were in life. His eyes were actually something less luminescent of the sky and more akin to ice. Cor’s were bluer by far, so bright they could have lit a room. You could have read by them at night better than a candle.

He leaned into Cor’s proffered arms, and laughed at the other man’s statement. “I suppose it was,” he agreed without heat, ran his free hand down Cor’s other arm, then down his chest instead. “I don’t know about you, Marshal, but I’ve had more than enough night to last me a lifetime. Or twenty, or a thousand, as the case might be.”

Ardyn laughed. Tugged Cor close, closer, until they were kissing, his hand thrown over the other man’s shoulder, fingers playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, as they fell into one another there in the oncoming chill of the Lucian night. The rest of the world, dead or alive, didn’t matter then. Just them, just one another.

As Ardyn pulled Cor closer, tilting against him until they were pressed together in a hot line from their shoulders down to their ankles, he knew that spending the rest of eternity together, with whatever that meant here in the realm that had been denied him for so long, was a fitting end to whatever sort of life it was he’d led.

It was about all he could wish for, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i embrace your defects_
> 
> _to confess_
> 
> _you were my every wish_
> 
> _i admit that i will never feel alone_
> 
> _once I call you home_
> 
> \- The End (for real) -
> 
> —
> 
> Now that Doe Eyes is actually for real, yes, finished, I (thetealord, hello) wanted to write up a little bit of an afterword and some acknowledgements. This was a very large, exciting, and kind of unexpected project, we weren’t even originally going to post this anywhere until we got going and it was really good and we were like hey, why not? 
> 
> First of all, this never would have happened without Lucy who made us matching icons of our favorite characters and unintentionally made us ship them in the first place. Thank you to Pud and Kenji (and noah) for founding slimechat. Pud and Kenji were also our first readers and encouraged us to post it, so thank you for that. Thank you to Neku for her love and constant support and to Jamie, Olivia, and the rest of slimechat for all of theirs. Thank you to Pretzel for that one little idea about Ardyn being the sun and Cor being his sky because I milked that thoroughly and it was all your fault. Thank you to Jiuu for doing some lovely sketches for us along the way. And thank you in advance to our friend Lillian for doing our latin translations for Ardyn and Izunia's conversations in the epilogue (which we will code in when they're finished). 
> 
> And last but certainly not least, thank you so much to every single person who’s reading this, to our readers who’ve finished and those who are still going, to those who will read it once and those who will read it ten or twenty or however many times. Thank you so much to everyone who commented, whether you commented once or every single chapter, you guys kept us going when we were losing inspiration, kept us excited when we needed it the most. Reading all of them is honestly the best thing, every comment on this fic is pure gold and we love you all, I can’t even begin to describe how much. This is the longest single entity work either of us has ever produced and we’re extremely proud of it. 
> 
> That being said, though the story is technically over, we’re contemplating making some kind of ebook version of it. I have no idea when that will be, but keep an eye on our twitters/tumblr for potential details on that in the future. 
> 
> And (predictably) we miss rping them already so we're planning another au. We have a pretty good idea of what we want to do but if anyone has suggestions or ideas for anything they want to see (or see more of), you can let us know in the comments and we might make it happen. ;) 
> 
> And finally, here’s the complete playlist including the songs for every doe eyes chapter and fic: [link](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgwk3JREr5Iy_XM831JHntFktFOWAbWgB)
> 
> (One final note that we had some technical difficulties when we tried to post the epilogue (you may have received the notif that this was chapter 25 and not 24... yeah we had some issues) and accidentally deleted the comments on chapter 1 so if you left a comment there previously and don't mind, go forth and show your appreciation for chapter 1 again!)

**Author's Note:**

> @thetealord (on ao3 and twitter) writes cor, @jonphaedrus (on ao3, tumblr, and twitter) writes ardyn
> 
> come chat with us on our mains or our spoiler unlocked accounts @corardyn and @regisclarus on twitter


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